Last Wish and Testament
by Silent.Storm
Summary: <html><head></head>Harry took his chance at Death's Crossing: Thinking the prophesized duel a foregone conclusion, he gives Tom a parting shot and takes his train. The Hallows, however, were not made to return to their maker's realm but to bind their master to it.</html>
1. The Next Great Adventure

**Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended with this work of fan fiction.**

**Eragon is property of Christopher Paolini. No copyright infringement is intended with this work of fan fiction.**

**Nowhere**

It was a desolate place Harry found himself in: A featureless gray world where indistinct white light filtered through grimy windows above and through a gray, cloudy sky over the rails up ahead. A crossroad between worlds indeed... This place could very well be the most tranquil setting he'd ever seen, where he could sit and ponder the incoming train and where it would take him for ages without noticing the passage of time. If it were not for the thing he held in his arms; or the person in front of him.

Harry couldn't contain his revulsion when looking at the twisted, miserable creature that was Tom Riddle's soul fragment. Neither could he disguise his bewilderment at Professor Dumbledore's request for this very same creature.

"I can't let you take him Professor. For one, there's no guarantee that your taking him with you wherever death leads you will, in fact, end Riddle. The prophecy clearly states I must be the one to kill him." The creature in his arms started fussing, as if it understood the underlying meaning of Harry's words, forcing him to hold on tighter to it just so it wouldn't fall.

"As I have told you, the prophecy will still be fulfilled. You need only walk out of the station after giving me what's left of Tom and you will be back in the living world. Scarcely a minute will have passed then."

Harry sighed resignedly "And then what professor? At best I'll wake to a fight I can't win. Every time I've faced Voldemort in the past I've only barely escaped with my life and then only through someone else's efforts; my mother's, Sirius'... yours. I won't make the mistake of letting the prophecy play out in his favor just because I didn't take a chance here, now."

Sorrow filled the elderly man's face and voice at his student's words. "There's no reason for you to throw your life away like this! I have the greatest confidence that you can yet return and succeed. The very prophecy you fear states that you HAVE the power to defeat Voldemort!"

Harry scoffed disdainfully at this "The power you'd have me believe is love? Forgive me for being skeptical Professor, but I don't see how THAT could be true."

The creature Harry held in his hands was becoming increasingly aware and holding it still now actually took some effort.

"I won't deny that at least until now the prophecy has proven to be accurate. I probably have this power the prophecy speaks of but having it and using it are two very different things. I just don't think I have the skill."

Dumbledore walked heavily to the single bench in the station, followed by Harry's sullen stare "It has always been a matter of will, your fight with Tom. Your determination and selflessness are what have allowed you to defeat him time and again. Trust me and your friends as you have all these years and you'll be fine".

Seeing that he had Harry's attention and was apparently managing to convince him, Albus found himself quite nonplussed at his student's wry chuckle.

"You do realize we are dead, don't you Professor? It doesn't really matter anymore anyway. I can see the train coming up".

Turning to the tracks, the headmaster did see an oddly silent Hogwarts Express about to arrive, its distinctive red locomotive quite visible in the distance.

"We're out of time Harry! You must -"

The Headmaster was astonished by what he turned back to. Harry had surreptitiously changed his hold on Tom's soul fragment and was choking it to death. The small creature was now entirely aware and scrabbling at Harry's arms with long thin claws that had sprouted from its stubby fingers.

"Harry what are you doing?" Albus yelled as he stood to try and pry Harry's hands from Tom's neck.

"What you should have done YEARS ago!" Harry replied, grunting against the pain from the numerous slashes to his arms and Albus' own efforts against him.

"Tom won't die if you kill him here but you will if you stay here to do it!"

"He will be mortal after this." Harry growled, "Do you hear me? YOU WILL BE MORTAL AGAIN!"

Suddenly there was a blinding flash of red light and Voldemort's voice clearly incanted: _Avada Kedavra!_

This caused a sudden lull in the action. Everyone stood stock still until the moment was broken by the still living Potter.

"Well fuck... THIS one's destruction you noticed. Is it because you're so used to listening inside my head?"

"Potter!" Voldemort spat venomously "How are you NOT dead?"

Harry took the opportunity to grab hold of the outstretched arm pointing at him as if it held a wand with his free hand "I _am_ dead actually, and there's no magic here that we can work with. I think it's only the strength of our souls that matters here and I've got both of you beat there, hands down".

Tom took notice of Dumbledore standing behind them both, looking quite confused by now.

"Ah, Albus, as effective a leader as always, I see. Still boy, if we are at death's gates you won't be able to _choke_ me to death" the smirk in his voice was obvious even if the distorted features of his face hid it quite effectively.

"Oh that much is obvious," Harry chuckled back with a savage grin that seemed manic under the red glow of his enemy's eyes, "but by now I think I'm an expert in just what it _takes_to kill a piece of you."

Taking Tom's other arm in hand along with the first one; heedless of the claws that had rivulets of blood running down his own arms and onto the floor, he wrenched both appendages up to leave Voldemort hanging in the air. Harry palmed the distorted head by the face and pulled.

"I'll tear you apart."

The fragment of soul was so tiny and fragile that a mighty heave on Harry's part was enough to tear the creature's head off its neck in a short, intense, shower of blood. The red glow of its eyes faded gradually; leaving behind the broken remains of a soul destroyed a long, long time ago.

The head and body made a dull thud on the ground when Harry released them to speak to his old tutor, who was staring at him with a horrified expression.

"There. Now we know for sure that he's mortal."

"But Harry..." The silent train was by now waiting behind them with open doors. Despite the horror he'd just beheld, Albus couldn't contain heartfelt tears for who was probably his most cherished student.

The adrenaline driven rage that had seized Harry left him, making him feel bone weary.

"I'm leaving Professor. I've done my part... we both have. Tom's weak and mortal now; let the wizarding world earn its freedom if it wants it so bad. I want some rest."

He climbed onto the train but Dumbledore's voice stopped him just shy of closing the door behind him.

"I just hope that your actions here do not weigh as heavily upon your soul as I think they will. You died a master of the Deathly Hallows Harry... odds are they won't let you just go to your rest as you wish; best of luck to you Harry."

"And to you Professor. If we don't meet again, please give my love to everyone else, and don't worry... I didn't get to own the Elder Wand so the Hallows are a moot point."

Turning around to meet the Headmaster's gaze, Harry sighed and his voice trembled as he said goodbyes he'd been denied a year ago.

"I understand why you did what you did, and I respect you for it. In time, I may even learn to forgive you because, despite everything, I still love you old man. Goodbye."

The door closed soundlessly and the train sped away from the station, disappearing into the distance. Professor Dumbledore shuffled back to the solitary bench and carefully sat down, heedless of the remains of a student he'd tried so long to save from himself.

There was naught to do now but hope that Tom could be killed... and wait for his own train. With some luck, the people back home would leave Harry's spirit to whatever life it managed to find at his destination.

It wasn't very likely though, and Harry probably knew it too.

**The Silent Vigil, Uru'baen**

It was a cursed place for his kind. Uru'baen was both graveyard and prison for dragonkind, as for nigh on a human generation Shruikan had been doing his level best to combat Galbatorix's incursions into his mind.

Almost literally from the time of his hatching he'd had to resist the domination that, to this day, ruled his existence. Sadly, he was unsuccessful more often than not.

When Shruikan's mind grew strong enough to consistently keep the emperor's away, Galbatorix decided that it was an unreasonable risk to trust magical bindings to keep the dragon from dropping him in flight or betraying him in battle. He decided, instead, that he would discover the dragon's True Name and bind him thus; forever.

Breaking the beast's mind open, however, was not an option, as targets of such attacks tended to go mad in the process. With the war all but won and as mighty a lieutenant as one could wish for in Durza, the emperor opted for an effort of attrition. Once the dragon was so weak of will that he could not keep his mind protected, he'd have free reign to plunder its secretes and divine his True Name quite easily... at this point he was very much an expert in the art.

At his command, a new tower was built on the fortress of Uru'baen, big enough to hold a dragon of a hundred years of age and little else. In an unprecedented feat of magic that served to cement the awe (and undeniable fear) that his new subjects felt for him, Galbatorix levitated the massive dragon into the tower's only floor several hundred feet above ground entirely on his own. He had his gilded throne sent in and proceeded to step inside and lock the door behind him. He hadn't left since and there they both remained.

Thus the Silent Vigil came to be.

With the amount of power at his command Galbatorix did not need to sleep, eat or even move. Every day for the last 20 years he'd been sitting on the same gilded chair, keeping his body hale and hearty through the magic of Shruikan's dead kin and counting each day that passed out loud, just to spite his prisoner. He even had the gall of providing the dragon with just enough energy to prevent starvation and deny him even the meager pleasure of feeding himself.

Recent events however, had made the emperor's task unexpectedly difficult: One of the remaining dragon eggs had been stolen, and although the material agent of the theft was dead, Galbatorix still cursed the name of the elf who'd removed so prized a treasure from his grasp. That the egg had hatched for someone who'd then gone ahead and killed both his right hand and the Ra'zac gave Shruikan not only the cold comfort of his jailor's impotent rage, but the fleeting hope of escape now that the emperor was forced to lend some of his eldunarí to his Rider thrall.

"It has been seven thousand and three hundred days Shruikan. How much longer can you endure?"

The dragon glared balefully at Galbatorix. Since their bond was not a Rider's bond, they could not touch each other's mind without lowering their defenses. This, and a true desire for the traitor's death, had forced Shruikan to a life of silence.

The emperor took the heated glare as an opportunity to launch a mental attack and felt feeble barriers hold him at bay.

"You've grown steadily weaker but no less defiant;" Galbatorix smirked "if anything, you should feel relieved that a hundred years and more of silence will soon be over. You'll be able to insult Murtagh and Thorn openly!"

Shruikan couldn't help or hide the shudder of shame that shook him for having to lower his head to escape the emperor's gaze. Enduring smug laughter at his expense was nothing at this point.

"You'll have to forgive my good humor, but after the last few setbacks, I must confess that this debacle at Gil'ead was surprising. The elves have crippled themselves sending their casters to the Varden, and this will cost them. Murtagh will break them with the power I've given him and then he will defend Belatona indefinitely".

Galbatorix stretched a hand to stroke Shruikan's muzzle, who shook with restrained rage. "If a couple years from now this upstart Eragon and his dragon are still alive, you and I will go and burn them and their little army to cinders. I will of course let you keep the dragon; we mustn't let the last female of your species go to waste".

Shruikan snorted disdainfully at this, curling his head around his body as much as he could in the cramped space to get away from the human's hand.

"Oh I don't think you have a year's worth of resistance in you any longer. I was being generous in my estimate on account of a truly admirable effort; I daresay few in the order of old could muster such stoicism for half as long! You are truly an admirable dragon."

Galbatorix looked out the massive opening in the far wall that dominated the otherwise barren room. Since the Silent Vigil -as he knew the people of the city called this tower- was the tallest edification in the fortress, he could see a very long distance into his realm.

"I must confess I am looking forward to flying again," He couldn't help but sigh wistfully at the view, "but for such a steed I can afford to be patient a little longer. At any rate, it won't … what is THIS?"

Shruikan perked up at the unusual interruption. Lately, Galbatorix had taken to seeing out of his pet Rider's eyes for a few seconds. He occasionally commented on what he saw, just to see if he could distract the dragon long enough to capitalize on it.

"Will you look at this!" Galbatorix rose violently from his chair for the first time since coming into the room.

"My old teacher Oromis is still alive!" he snarled "It was HIM that denied me another dragon!"

After a sudden, staggering flare of magic, Galbatorix started speaking out loud. From what he said, it was obvious the emperor's attention was no longer in this room. All of his senses seemed to have left him, as he was apparently seeing, hearing and speaking to whoever Murtagh was fighting.

For a moment Shruikan was unsure of what to do with the sudden and very unexpected freedom he had been granted. He gathered his wits quickly though, and forced his emaciated body to respond. He stood on shaky legs and, swallowing a groan of pain, forced his almost paralyzed tail to stretch after twenty years of imprisonment. He'd kept his long appendage coiled about himself for all this time just so he wouldn't tip off Galbatorix to the fact that the massive opening through which he'd been levitated so long ago had not been warded to prevent his escape.

There was not any barrier at the opening and the dragon could, with difficulty, turn himself about so that he was facing the open sky.

His breath caught in his chest at the sight.

At the beginning of his captivity, he'd kept this little loophole in mind so that he would be able to escape at his jailor's first sign of distraction. As the years passed and Galbatorix did not shift his gaze from him, Shruikan despaired of ever making use of it.

Here was the opportunity he'd been waiting for... but escape was no longer possible.

The dragon forced his trembling limbs to the edge of the room and gathering his flagging strength took a final jump into the great blue yonder... it was surprisingly difficult to suppress the instinct of opening his wings as the fortress' stone floor approached. While he fell, Shruikan begged whatever was left of his magic to help him do as much harm as possible to he who had singlehandedly hunted his race to extinction.

He was surprised to feel so much energy even after so long an imprisonment. His body went numb and his vision dimmed in his last seconds, but he gathered his breath and with a mighty roar that shook the battlements, he let loose his power to do what it would.

The resounding crash of his body upon the floor seemed to echo this last, defiant cry... He was the first and last of the Forsworn; the only one of them to remember his name and die with it, free.

**Everywhere**

The train seemed to run forever. The light outside never dimmed or grew brighter, even after the station had disappeared behind them.

The compartment in which Harry rode was identical to any other Hogwarts Express compartment, if done in scales of gray. His own black robes hardly added color to his surroundings; the world outside his window was no help, since it looked like he was surrounded on all sides with a thick, impenetrable fog.

He took the time to explore the train, but every car looked the same and both the locomotive in front and the baggage cars in the back were locked. He headed back to his compartment, where he sat and stared out the window, absently noting that it too was locked. He stared morbidly at his worn reflection for a long time... only the vivid red of Voldemort's blood broke the monotony around him. He dozed for lack of anything better to do.

Harry suddenly startled awake and saw that it was pitch black outside. The train wasn't moving and the lights inside had turned on.

Rubbing the sleep of his eyes, Harry straightened his glasses and robes and realized that all the blood on him had disappeared while he slept. Looking around, it didn't seem as if someone had come into his compartment and cleaned him: His clothes were crisp and clean; there were no stains on the gray upholstery where he had sat.

Perturbed, yet inured by now to the strangeness of Death's realm, Harry simply decided to see what awaited him at his destination. With some luck, his family would be there.

He opened the train door on his own and incongruously stepped into a cavern full of shallow water lit by torches set on sconces on either wall. They lit as he approached and fizzled out as he left them behind, leaving only impenetrable darkness at his back.

Wading through the dank passage made dim by the torches, Harry finally reached a massive stone engraved with the symbol of the Hallows. The biggest gem Harry had ever seen hung from the mouth of a great gold knocker shaped in the form of a dragon, smooth and hard like a diamond, crystal and cut with many facets but entirely black and glowing with an unearthly purple glow about it.

Taking a deep breath to steel his nerves, he took the knocker and upon hitting the stone door, the gem dissipated into a swirl black sparkles that spun about him and were absorbed into his body.

The door opened ponderously with a ground shaking groan, bathing the cavern in blinding white light. Harry crossed the threshold with his head held high and a childish excitement in his heart that he'd thought lost for years.

Perhaps it was true that death was just the next great adventure after all.


	2. That Thing Revisited

**Varden vanguard, early afternoon**

All morning long Roran's scouting party had been on the trail of a marauding band of soldiers about half a day west and north of them; soldiers that single-handedly compromised the entirety of the Varden army.

Some distance away from his company, Roran led his two lieutenants to a small promontory overlooking their hasty camp. They had to devise a course of action to mitigate and report these raids or the consequences would be dire.

Yarbog was the actual leader of the urgal party that had been assigned to him when his company was formed in an effort to strengthen relations between their species. After a difficult duel that should have ended in the urgal's death, Roran forced Yabog to submit to him, unknowingly gaining a party of loyal followers that would not question him unless ordered to do so by their chieftain or he was defeated in honorable combat by any of their number.

Carn, on the other hand, was a close friend of his who was also the only spell caster in his group. His cautious nature was a good counterpoint to Yarbog's tempestuous character, even if the urgal was the official lieutenant of Roran's party.

"The trail is very obvious from here Stronghammer, but it won't matter that we know where they are going if we can't catch them".

"We've been chasing these bastards all morning and gotten nowhere. We're only hurting ourselves more if we keep after them; we ought to turn back and report while the army can still stop and wait for the supply trains" Carn argued.

"There's some truth to that" Yarbog replied while rummaging through his pack for rations "Lady Nightstalker has to hear about this. Doesn't mean we ought to stop chasing them though, they've been riding as long as we have and raiding to boot. They'll have to stop to rest soon; we'll catch them at the next village".

Roran nodded thoughtfully and called for his fastest rider.

"I'll send Horin back and the rest of us will follow the raiders. If we end up having to fight or make camp tonight at least the army won't have moved much farther north."

"I'd like to send one of my warriors with your messenger, Stronghammer. Just in case they meet with trouble on the way back. Urbog is fast enough to keep up with the horse and a deft hand with a sword."

"Good idea, see it done."

In short order both the smallish urgal and the young man were brought to Roran, who stood to receive them.

"Horin, you are to travel light and head back to the Varden to report what we have seen. Tell Lady Nasuada that all the villages fifty leagues west and north of their position have been raided and their stores of grain and meat mostly destroyed.

Furthermore, tell her that the rest of our unit will ride ahead to try and stop..." Roran floundered for a moment.

"Alavir." Carn provided from the side.

"Alavir! To try and keep the village of Alavir safe. I will provide a full report of whatever else happens after this when next I see her.

Urbog, I'm trusting you to provide what protection you can to see the message delivered. Make ready for the trip".

The young man saluted and ran off to his steed. Urbog, for his part, nodded without a word and went to make his own preparations.

Roran turned back to his lieutenants after they had gone, still feeling weird by having people salute him.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to put them together without supervision Yarbog?"

"Did supervision help either of us?" Yarbog chuckled, "Urbog may be small and crazier than a mountain goat to boot but he's a good warrior, and very fast. He'll see to it that the message is heard. Besides, our people have to grow used to working together and fast; best that our unit sets an example, seeing as to how it's the first mixed one in the army."

"I just worry about Horin's safety if he should be challenged while out in the middle of nowhere. I don't think he's got what it takes to take an urgal down by hand." Roran stated bluntly.

"None of us would compromise a mission for standing in the clan!"

Roran silently conceded the point (Yarbog had at least waited until the mission was finished before issuing his challenge) and moved on to the more immediate problem of the raiders.

"How many in their party?"

After a deep calming breath, the urgal scratched thoughtfully under his horns.

"Hard to say. I'm a very good tracker mind you, but it's very difficult to count the numbers of a group of galloping horses running together. I'd have to know how this captain would arrange his hunters to make some sense of what tracks we've seen."

"Any ideas as to Belatona's military training, Carn?"

"Nothing definite. I do know that the city is close enough to the Empire that they take after it more than Surda though; odds are our Varden training wouldn't be of any use."

"None of us has any imperial training so make a guess with what you have Yarbog"

"Well... if I went by our smallest horse, then I'd say close to forty riders. Maybe less than that but the tracks at the last village were too trampled by the survivors to make anything more specific out".

"Did any of the people there have a headcount on the raiders?" Roran asked.

"I had some of the men ask around after we'd put out the fires and nobody could tell anything certain. They were raided well before dawn; most of them were in their beds when the soldiers came in and kicked down their doors.

By the time we got there half the village was on fire and anyone left alive was too grief stricken to make much sense." Carn explained around a piece of salted pork.

"Forty riders it is then…" Roran mused, "Have the men drop their packs and everything from their saddles but weapons, shields and food for tonight. We'll lighten our load as much as we can so we don't have to stop; if we're still alive this time tomorrow, we'll pick everything up on the way back to the army".

The corpulent man paced as he spoke.

"I want our best marksmen paired up with an urgal each. As we catch up to their rearguard we'll have the archers provide cover fire for the urgals to sprint ahead and topple the riders they can reach. When they start turning to face us, the rest of our party will spread out and surround them to hit them from the back."

Yarbog nodded and set off to make the necessary arrangements.

"You could always tell Horin to ask for your cousin." Carn suggested, getting on his feet himself.

"Lady Nasuada wouldn't go for it. Eragon's had to stay close to the army since we left Feinster because there's a chance Murtagh and his dragon could fly out to harass us while we trudge along in the middle of the plains. Without cover his dragon would roast half our army in just a few passes".

"We're expecting them at Belatona?" Carn asked, surprised by the news.

"Lady Nasuada thinks they'll be there at least." Roran replied with a shrug, "If Feinster's magicians sent word of our attack before we forced them to summon the Shade, Murtagh will have been sent south. We're pretty much forced to take both Belatona and Dras Leona before we even think of attacking Galbatorix anyhow and Belatona is the better target."

"And you're not at all worried we're going to be laying siege to a city defended by a Rider?"

"We've got our own Rider and I'd bet on Eragon and Saphira against anyone, any day." Roran replied with a proud smile on his face for his cousin.

When they returned to the rest of their party everyone was already mounting or ready for travel; after mounting their own steeds Yarbog came up to them to report that Horin was already on his way and to give Roran his bow and quiver.

"I've explained the strategy and set aside the archer teams. Will you ride with them or charge ahead, Stronghammer?"

Roran took a moment to check his bowstring before replying "Charging ahead. Never could get a handle on shooting from horseback."

"Glad to hear it!" the massive kull replied with a savage grin, "I'll run with you then."

Roran inspected his men quickly before addressing them.

"Alright people! You know what to do if we catch up with the imperials. If we can't reach them before they make it to the village we'll just have to charge in and work from there. We want to surprise them before that though, so ride hard!"

Despite making good time with their lightened load and the flat terrain of the plains, the closer they got to the village, the more irregular the ground became, forcing them to keep a slower pace than necessary for reaching the village before the last light of day vanished behind the Spine. Ironically, the rising column of smoke led their way for the last few miles, as it stood in stark relief to the vivid orange of the setting sun.

**Alavir village, late evening**

Upon reaching the outskirts of the village, Roran realized that they would not be able to simply charge in, as the village was nested in a valley formed by hills on their side and the first "small" mountains of the Spine on the opposite one, in a manner similar to Carvahall. While these hills were by no means comparable to the massive mountains of his home, the fact remained that they would have to head into the village through the only visible path. Knowing this, he waited until all his men were with him and asked Carn to cast the arrow ward he had by now perfected before leading them up the road and into Alavir.

It was full dark by the time they charged into the village square, where they found their way barred by people. Villagers had been herded into the square in their nightclothes by the marauding soldiers who stood behind their hostages arrayed in a semicircle, some of them with strung bows and all of them mounted; evidently waiting for Roran and his group.

"I must admit that I find myself surprised that the Varden were close enough to Belatona to catch up with us here. Who leads you, Varden?" Yelled out who seemed to be the captain of the raiding soldiers.

"Why should we do anything but attack? We both know that neither of us will surrender; least of all when justice for all you've done would surely see you dead." Roran replied, not bothering to hide his contempt for these men.

"Because we hold a good number of Varden sympathizers hostage? Not that they'd be much use to your army with every granary from here to Feinster on fire."

Roran held his ground, fearful of charging with so many bows trained on the hostages.

"Nobody move!" Roran roared at his men when he saw Yarbog and his urgals about to charge.

"Well, it seems I've made my point at any rate." the captain mused, "Drop your weapons and surrender and the villagers will go unharmed".

Roran was uncertain, actually thinking of surrendering to save the villagers.

"Stronghammer!" Yarbog growled angrily, "You can't really be thinking of surrendering!"

The soldiers behind them clearly shared the sentiment.

"Will you shut up Yarbog?" Carn shushed him.

"Oh ho! What's this then? You're led by Roran Stronghammer, of all people? I'll do you one better Stronghammer. Both your men and the villagers will be free to leave if you surrender yourself to me."

"Hah! If you know of me, you must know what I have done. I guarantee that if you harm those people, none of you will leave here alive."

"Empty threats Varden, and you know it. We can shoot half this people even as we run out the back and you'll never catch us. Is this how the Varden repay the efforts of their allies? Leaving them to die when the sacrifice of but one man would save their lives and homes?"

At the captain's words the villagers grew even more agitated, their pleas for help reaching a fever pitch that hammered on Roran's conscience mercilessly. Leaving the villagers to die didn't sit well with him, and trampling them himself even less, but he understood that he could not allow himself to be taken.

Hoping he could live with himself after this night, Roran took a deep breath.

"Charge!"

**Mountains of the Spine, early night**

It had been a strange few months, to be sure.

Harry opened his eyes to a desolate mountaintop reaching well over the clouds, with even taller peaks in the distance in front of him. Looking behind him, he saw that he'd stepped through a great stone archway carved from face of the mountain and engraved with runes that glowed with a mystic light that followed the cadence of a multitude of whispers coming from deep within the mountain.

It was obvious that this stone arch was a pathway into the realm of the dead, similar to the veil in the Department of Mysteries. Thinking that he'd be safe after his experience in that realm, he took a step into the archway, causing the whispers in the cave suddenly screech a long, piercing cry that echoed around the cliffs.

Harry backpedaled quickly and dropped to his hands and knees to keep his balance as the whole mountain shook violently. The localized earthquake caused a huge boulder to block the archway and with a great silver flash, several runes were engraved on it.

The quiet after such a thing was so great as to be unnerving; even the wind stopped moving amongst the peaks. In such otherworldly stillness it was evident that without some means of leaving the mountaintop, Harry would quickly freeze to death.

His magic reacted violently to this stray thought, triggering an excruciating transformation that really didn't bear remembrance. After what felt like forever but had probably not been more than an hour, Harry found himself inhabiting the body of a huge black dragon.

The elation caused by being able to fly on his own (hopefully to someplace warmer) didn't last long past the first pangs of hunger a few hours later. Although he could instinctually take wing and his innate skill at flight had indeed carried over to his dragon body, he learned that it was vastly different to chase something down for sport rather than food. Things tended to try their damned best to stay alive after all.

More than once Harry had found himself almost crashing into cliff faces while chasing goats that could leap on and over the snow covered rock as easily as he ran on grass. His prey's agility coupled with air currents made treacherous by the surrounding peaks made for very difficult flying. What's more, once he'd finally made his first kill, his natural squeamishness made finishing his meager catch a very difficult affair.

After weeks of these problems and the never ending cold and snow -annoying even if his body was now seemingly impervious to freezing winds- convinced Harry that heading away from the mountains would be a good idea; a warmer climate would mean more game and a flatter terrain would make hunting a pretty straight forward.

So it was that Harry took to the air, found the sea and got his bearings. Realizing he was at the edge of a continent or an island, he turned around and flew inland. Eventually he reached the banks of a great lake, where the vantage point offered by the mountains that forded the lake let him see far into the distance... much farther than he would have as a human, now that he had a flat landscape to take advantage of his eyes.

Harry's prediction proved right and after a couple of days of swooping down on hapless deer he felt sated for the first time in weeks. Ironically, now that his basic needs were quite thoroughly met, Harry's sleep became plagued by strange lucid dreams that went from the merely strange to the truly horrific.

His nights alternated between reliving the life and subsequent imprisonment of Shruikan, the dragon whose body he now wore, and Voldemort's exploits during Grindelwald's war and his first rise to power.

After a few days of these dreams Harry was very reluctant to sleep at night, something that left him feeling tired and distracted all day. This would not be a problem if he weren't trying to keep a low profile... as a dragon he was not very inconspicuous, being especially visible when he ventured away from the mountain slopes and over the lake. With a big city on the lake's leftmost bank, Harry didn't really want to call attention to himself in case these people found dragons half as useful as wizards back in England did, and even though the city offered the first chance of a warm bed and cooked food in months, the prospect of the change back to a human body was terrifying. So much so that Harry made a point of not consciously thinking of his human body on the off chance that his magic would react like it had back at the Archway.

Strangely enough, even when he could feel the weather growing colder with the approaching winter, there was a lot of movement over the lake; numerous boats ferried goods and people from the distant city to the opposite side of the lake.

One morning, muddled after a fitful night, Harry stepped outside the cave where he made his lair without first checking for ships on the lake, thinking that a long flight would help him clear his head and leave him tired enough to sleep without dreaming. He only noticed he was flying over a small fleet when he heard the sailor's alarmed cries. Looking down, he noticed he was close enough to make out the uniform on the soldiers aboard the ships, as well as the flags these flew. The hail of arrows shot his way convinced Harry that a relocation was long overdue… he had no desire to go back to the damned cold of the mountains, and he was curious about all the soldiers he'd seen crossing the lake. He headed south.

After that chance encounter though, his dreams changed. Now he relived Shruikan's last day alive every time he slept and his last wish for vengeance echoed in his head during his waking hours.

Harry knew that whatever had brought him to this world wanted him to do something. It was difficult not to draw unpleasant conclusions when he was plagued with Shruikan's dying roar every night, yet heeding this creature meant to willingly walk into another war, one where he would be a very tempting target for a madman that had, if he understood his dreams correctly, singlehandedly conquered the country and driven dragons to extinction in the process.

Granted, without context for his borrowed memories, Harry had no way to understand most of what he saw of Shruikan, but he knew he had no personal stake in this conflict and that he very much wanted to leave his days of prophecy behind him. After days of ignoring the dragon's voice, however, his own body forced the issue.

Sudden phantom pains that mirrored some of what he'd gone through assuming his current shape and even though memories of the real thing (as well as all his exposure to the Cruciatus curse) allowed Harry to endure the worsening pain for a fortnight, they grew steadily worse and more frequent. When his wings started aching, Harry decided that he'd be better off trying to fulfill the dragon's last wish rather than feeling his wings growing out of his back again every day, even if only in his head.

The daily repetition of Shruikan's last encounter with the Emperor had shown Harry that the soldiers he'd seen weeks ago were part of Galbatorix's army, mostly because the dragon's erstwhile jailor wore the same coat of arms embroidered on his tunic that the soldiers bore on their tabards.

The decision to carry out the dragon's wish was enough to provide Harry with much needed relief. Once he was fed and rested, Harry flew east out of the mountains, following a column of smoke that started rising in the horizon early in the afternoon.

And here was Harry, perched atop the back hill of a village that seemed to be under siege; its people were surrounded by quite a large party of horsemen, among whom he could see imperial colors.

He'd come here just to have some peace of mind, perhaps actually do some damage to a mad man he wasn't really intending to fight. However, seeing unarmed people terrified and surrounded by armed soldiers in a burning village drove home that Galbatorix was akin to Voldemort, albeit with a real army on hand.

He didn't have a personal stake in this war, Shruikan's memories notwithstanding, but he wouldn't stand by and let innocent people die while he could do something about it, and being a dragon meant there was a lot he could do.

Harry leapt off the cliff and tucked his wings close to his body, going into a steep dive towards the village thinking that if Hermione were here, she'd be screaming at him for trying to get killed saving people, _again._

**Alavir village Square**

After ordering the charge Roran couldn't help but stop and stare for a moment at the carnage he had unleashed.

The urgals surged forward with a resounding roar at Roran's command, parting and trampling the villagers like a battering ram; those that weren't quick enough to leap aside died under their hooves. The human riders hesitated only moments before urging their mounts forward, some making an effort not to harm the villagers overmuch, breaking formation and thus turning an already difficult situation into bedlam.

The Belatonian captain was taking advantage of the panic, riding further up the main road and shooting any lone Varden who made it out of the melee in the Square or firing indiscriminately into the crowd when there wasn't a clear target. Carn's magical ward protected them from the Imperial's first volleys as much as the panicking villagers did, but the redirected arrows invariably found a target in hapless bystanders as often as not, forcing the wizard to dispel it.

Roran's unit had made it through quickly however, their bulk and numbers driving most of the villagers to the side of the square into the small side alleys between buildings were they were relatively out of danger. Upon finding themselves under sustained fire from the imperials, the urgals picked up any straggling villager or corpse they could reach and used them for shields, sprinting forward to engage the soldiers before they could retreat again.

This lurid display of practicality snapped Roran out of his reverie and spurred him to catch up to his company who were having a hard time killing the skirmishing imperials. They'd arranged themselves in two groups that leapfrogged around each other in their retreat, engaging the Varden just long enough for the group in the back to fire a volley. For each imperial rider the urgals toppled, one of them died to arrows and if the imperials left the village proper they'd quickly get away on their rested mounts.

"Form up! Two riders abreast, come on men, move!" Roran cried, rallying his riders to him while the urgals kept the archers busy.

"Make way for Stronghammer!" Yarbog ordered his clansmen as he blocked a swing from the human he was fighting and with a quick step back punched the horse, causing it to rear violently. Ducking low to avoid the animal's hooves, Yarbog gored the beast's belly with his horns and with a mighty heave threw both rider and horse into a wall at the side of the road.

"Break and retreat! Full gallop!" ordered the imperial captain when he saw the Varden had regrouped behind the urgal line.

However, the buildings along the main street that had kept the disorganized Varden hemmed in now impeded the raiders' retreat. Without much room to turn around, their front line was having a hard time disengaging from Yarbog and his remaining warriors, who were slowly parting them down the middle to allow Roran and the surviving riders to charge the group in the back.

"Charge!" Roran roared when his men were in position, his earlier doubt gone in the wake of the slaughter. The Varden riders charged up the road after the fleeing imperials, attacking the beleaguered soldiers on either side of the road as they rode past.

The fleeing soldiers had enough of a lead that Roran could see they'd get away; they were already out of the town and getting lost in the darkness away from the fires. Still, he urged his men to press on if only to ensure they wouldn't turn back and attack them while he and his men nursed their wounds.

Suddenly, a deafening roar came from above them and a massive, snarling black _something_ bowled their enemies over from the side. Even from afar they could hear the surprised cries from the soldiers as they fell. The creature, whatever it was, leaped after those who had managed to stay standing after its surprise attack. Both it and the soldiers were soon out of sight.

Roran and his men cautiously approached the bodies, some of whom still agonized; either crushed by their mounts or stepped on by whatever beast had attacked them. Most of the dead were torn apart along with their horses by brutal slashes of fangs or talons.

It was a grisly sight.

"What the hell was that?" Carn asked, panting from exhaustion and fear.

"I don't know," Roran replied, just as bewildered, "but whatever it was, we shouldn't be here when it returns to finish the job."

"Back to the village, everyone! Yarbog is sure to need some help."

The snap of leathery wings overhead was their only warning before the massive bulk of the beast dropped between them and the village.

The humans couldn't make any details in the flickering light of the distant fires; its dark hide blended in with the gloom making it seem like shadows had risen and fused around a pair of glowing, penetrating green eyes.

Its shape, however, was impossible to confuse. It was a dragon.

"Nobody make any sudden moves." Roran commanded his men, praying that his nervousness didn't show in his voice.

"Wh-what are we gonna do now?" somebody in the back wondered out loud.

"You lot will stay here. I'll go talk to it... I'm a little familiar with dragons because of Eragon and Saphira."

Roran took a deep breath to steel himself.

"Wish me luck... and if I get eaten, make for the mountains. With some luck you'll reach cover before it catches you."


	3. Shruikan

Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling _et ál_. The Inheritance Cycle is the property of Christopher Paolini _et ál_. No copyright infringement is intended with this work. No profit is being made from it's publishing either. This is merely written for enterntainment.

**Village of Alavir**

**Early evening**

Harry's dive took him over the village just in time to see Galbatorix's soldiers flee the village. Banking a hard left, he snapped his wings open, pushed all his talons forward and crashed into the fleeing riders.

His landing crushed two of the riders under their horses and a swipe of his talons clove another in twain, man and mount alike. The survivors of this group scattered in panic, making it impossible to hunt all of them down if he wanted to catch the second group of raiders before they retreated to the village. Harry took to the air again to orient himself.

From his vantage point up in the sky he could see the second column of people head back to the village at a brisk pace. They were quite easy to follow as the orange light from the fires in the village shone on them as the got closer to the village. On his other side the uniformed imperials were quickly being swallowed by the night.

_I won't waste all night chasing four people all over the place _Harry thought absently _and those others over there were just as willing to burn the village down. _

Harry landed on the path back to the village and watched the advancing column suddenly halt. He was too far from them to hear what they were saying but from the fact that they hadn't panicked and run it seemed that they, at least, knew what they were dealing with (and were probably too stupid to flee).

The group huddled together a ways from him but just as Harry was making up his mind to just breathe on them and be done with the whole thing, one of the men stepped away from the group and headed resolutely to him; making Harry stare down at him in dumbfounded surprise.

The little man stopped some ten feet away from him and looked up at him.

"Greetings dragon! I'm Roran Stronghammer of the Varden and I thank you for your assistance in stopping those raiders. We'd been chasing that group since early morning and this is the third village they've put to the torch, as far as we can tell."

Harry heard all this and absently noted just how big he'd grown as a dragon, since he had to practically touch his snout to the ground just to bring his head level to the human. Who seemed to be expecting some kind of response.

A minute passed and still the human didn't move... what's more, he refused to be cowed even when Harry growled at him. Harry lifted his head to take a peek at this Roran's companions and they hadn't moved except to stare in awe at their leader.

_It does take some brass balls to walk up to a dragon and _talk _to it_ Harry thought wryly _that, or Charlie's rather unique sort of madness; because no dragon I've seen could actually reply. Merlin knows a lot of things would be easier if dragons could talk. _Indeed, both the first task of the triwizard tournament and his rather suicidal escape from Gringotts would have been a lot easier if dragons could hold a conversation. He could get some information out of this group as well; a dead dragon's memories made for rather bad reference material when said beast spent the last decades of its life holed up in a stone room.

This stray thought caused Harry's magic to react. After months of actively trying to avoid specific desires that would trigger changes in his body like the initial transformation that turned him into a dragon, he'd basically wished for speech.

Power rose like a tidal wave from his belly to his head and neck, gathering there until it reached a critical mass. Harry felt as if he'd swallowed burning coals that were slowly eating through his throat. He was roaring in pain and yet no sound came out of his muzzle, muted by whatever changes his magic was working in his body. After what felt like an eternity, the pain disappeared as suddenly as it had come; his magic receding once more into the restless inactivity of the past few months.

Stubborn pride and the fact that he was standing on four legs kept Harry from crashing onto the ground. He was panting from the exertion and he noticed his sight wasn't focusing clearly when he sought Roran, who had retreated back to his men. They were all wary of him (granted, odd behaviour aside, he was still a dragon) and had trained all their weapons on him. But they hadn't run or attacked... such a Gryffindor act of bravery (abject stupidity, Snape would call it) bore investigating.

"Sorry for that" Harry spoke in a raspy voice after he'd regained his breath "it's just that it's been... a good long while since last I spoke. I had to work at it for a moment." Harry noticed that his voice rumbled from deep inside him and echoed all around him with nary an effort. Discrete, he was not.

It seemed, however, that despite their expectations Roran and his men were quite nonplussed at his words.

"You... can speak?" Roran asked dubiously.

"If you thought I wouldn't answer, why exactly did you come up to speak? Because if you wanted to be eaten I'm sure I can manage. I'm quite hungry, truth be told" Harry deadpanned, causing much nervous shuffling among the humans.

"Ah...It's... it's nothing... really" Roran stammered "...just that this other dragon I know speaks telepathically. Into our heads, I mean. I didn't know dragons could speak."

"Necessity is the mother of invention Roran. If your friend doesn't speak like I do, it's probably because he has never needed to."

An uncomfortable silence settled down in the clearing, making the humans whisper fretfully amongst themselves

"Now Roran, while it's amusing to watch you people talk yourselves into some semblance of courage; it gets rather boring after a while." Harry mused, laying on the ground and crossing his front paws pensively.

"You see, I came down here to deal with Galbatorix's merry band of soldiers and I've done that. Not flying that murderer's flag earned you this little chat but it'll be up to you people to give me a good reason not to sneeze and rid myself of all of you".

"Ahem..." Roran composed himself at this stark reminder of his company's rather precarious situation "well, I don't know how aware you are of events outside these mountains, but for the past several decades there's been open war between Galbatorix's Empire and a resistance group based in the southern reaches of Alagaësia called the Varden. We're a part of this rebel group ourselves".

"I knew of this group you speak of, though not its name. It's good that someone is at least trying to do something about that madman... but a band of raiders looks about the same as any other, regardless of who they report to" Harry growled back.

Roran's back tensed in mute outrage at the dragon's judgement and he found himself staring the beast in the eye (inasmuch as height permitted), unflinching at the criticism.

"Despite what you may think, there was no way around what happened at the town square. Letting those soldiers flee the village would only have doomed all towns north of here to the torch, just as this place and several more like it have already burnt. They had to be stopped." Roran explained with unwavering conviction.

Harry glared at the human, clearly unimpressed with his reasoning but unable to offer an alternative.

"Look, we can sit here and argue all night for all I care, but at least let my men go back into the village. The fire in the barns won't take long to spread to the rest of the village and there won't be enough hands to deal with it when it does."

Harry stood back up and looked at the village behind him. The barns on either side of the village still burned strong and they were close enough to the village proper to be dangerous. Sparks were flying from the flames constantly; it was only a matter of time before the rest of the village caught fire.

"Alright, your people can go help the survivors and put out whatever small fires you find. I'll deal with the big fires myself."

"You heard the dragon, men!" Roran roared at his people "Back into the village with you! Yarbog is certain to have wounded and the villagers will need whatever help they can get."

Harry stepped out of the path to let the humans pass, who did so nervously and as quickly as they could without actually running away.

"You, however, " Harry growled when it seemed that Roran would follow the last man to shuffle past him "are coming with me."

"Whatever for?" Roran asked, puzzled.

"Insurance"

"Against what?"

"Your men's good behaviour" Harry stated loudly so that the retreating column heard him. The lot of them paused and looked back apprehensively but Roran waved them on. Still, Harry was pretty certain he'd made his point.

"I ought to be insulted that you'd think my men would pillage their own allies!"

"You were willing to write them off as collateral. 'Looter' is a step up from 'murderer' I should think".

Roran glowered at the dragon's glib tone but said nothing as he arranged himself on the annoying beast's back. It was an awkward fit between two of the bone spikes jutting from Harry's spine but for the short flyover the village, it was enough.

"Try not to fall off" Harry growled at his passenger before taking off.

A mighty heave of his legs and furious flapping of wings had them airborne and quickly circling above the first of the burning buildings. From their vantage point they could see villagers milling about, trying to put out several small fires, albeit keeping their distance from the remaining urgals.

While it was far too high to make out who exactly was still alive, it was clear to Roran that they were tending to their wounded and keeping out of the way as much as possible.

Harry for his part was having a hard time getting close to the flames because of the hot air currents wafting up from the conflagration. After a few moments of deliberation, Harry angled himself into a steep dive and folded his wings with a resounding snap. Once he deemed himself close enough to the fire he opened them again, circling around the building in a downward spiral.

With a roar he opened his maw and loosed a massive breath of freezing energy and ice that chilled everything in its path and quickly dowsed the fire amidst a great billowing cloud of steam and the deafening hiss of evaporating liquid. A few seconds of desperate flapping later to avoid crashing into the ground, they were headed for the next fire.

Despite Roran's loud protests, Harry repeated the procedure on the second burning barn and in short order both great fires were only smoldering ruins. The air about the village was quite stifling because of the steam, but the villagers seemed in good spirits by the time Harry landed outside the village.

"Alright Roran, you've got to-"

"Were you trying to kill me?" Roran bellowed as he jumped off Harry's back "did you even remember I was up there with you?"

"You're still alive, quit your whining" Harry growled back "Besides, you've got to clear out the area around the barns or anyone stupid enough to get close is bound to get hurt".

"If I'm still alive, it's no thanks to you" Roran muttered "What's wrong with the barns? Fire's out, it ought to be safe from what I saw... what was that you did, for that matter? I thought dragons only breathed fire."

"My breath's cold; makes ice crystals if it touches anything big enough for them to pile on" Harry explained "They usually break quickly enough for it not to matter but I had to use a lot of power to put out the fires in one pass and they got big. The only other time I've made crystals as big as the ones in the ruins, they exploded as soon as I stopped holding them together."

"Exploded?"

"Yes! Now go check!" Harry lowered his head and closed his eyes in concentration.

Roran turned to the small crowd of onlookers that had gathered almost as soon as they'd touched down and spotted several of his men in it.

"Malver! Get two others and go clear out the easternmost barn. Hargost! Do the same on the other side. Levaron! Get Carn and Yarbog out here. The rest of you, scram! There's still fires to put out and your gawking isn't helping any!" Roran bellowed.

His men saluted smartly and hurried off to their tasks while the villagers quickly walked back to the village, staring at Roran and the dragon over their shoulders all the while.

_I rate a salute now _Roran thought ruefully to himself _Rumor mill's going to be a pain way before the sun's up_.

"Everything's sorted out now, just a few more minutes and my men will have both areas clear of people." Roran said, turning back to Harry.

"Good."

"How are you holding up?"

"Well enough" Harry replied gruffly.

It was not easy for Harry to keep the crystals in one piece however. It wasn't an issue of power as he had that in spades; it was control that was the problem. Since becoming a dragon, his magic had been a roiling maelstrom in his breast that defied all attempts to control it or use it for anything resembling a spell aside from his breath weapon*. Even focusing his attention on it was dangerous, as it was much more responsive to intent than it used to be. Case in point, the last time he'd thought of a need great enough; he'd turned into a dragon.

Never mind that it was supposed to be impossible.

Handling the ice crystals was similar to how he powered his freezing breath because the crystals themselves didn't _feel _as if they were something outside his body. When he closed his eyes and concentrated, he was aware of each of the crystals as if they were another appendage on his body like a leg or a wing. When he felt one of them shrinking, he pushed more of his power to them the same way he pooled energy in his throat to freeze something and the crystal stabilized. The problem was that it seemed they were made to break since the more often he sent power to a crystal, the faster it destabilized.

After close to ten minutes Harry couldn't keep up with the crystals fast enough and they started breaking in a chain reaction that worsened an already pounding headache.

Harry slouched onto the ground with a sigh of relief "Well, they've blown up. Lets hope your men did their thing."

"Nobody is back yet but I think they had enough time to get there. Are you alright?" Roran asked.

Harry noticed that another human and one of the strange minotaur creatures had joined Roran while he was juggling the crystals.

"Yes, it's only a headache. Who are these?"

"Must be a bad one from the looks of it" Roran mused "This is Carn, he's my company's appointed sorcerer and this is Yarbog, my second in command."

"I'll be damned Stronghammer! You've taken to Riding now!" Yarbog excalimed.

"It's more of a stay of execution I think" Roran replied wryly "Although it doesn't look like he's up to eating us anymore, are you?"

"Not really. You're alright, your people seem to be behaving... and I'm not up to chasing the lot of you over the plains right now to be honest." said Harry "Did you say Carn was a sorcerer? Would you happen to have something for a headache on hand?"

"Nothing, sorry." Carn answered, sounding somewhat baffled at being addressed by the dragon. "We left our supplies behind to chase the raiders and I wouldn't know the first thing about healing dragons anyhow."

"Pity. It was worth a shot." Harry got to his feet with a groan "Well, all the crystals but one are gone. That last one feels pretty stable on its own so I don't think it'll blow up."

"You think?" Roran deadpanned.

"Hey, it's the first time I've done anything so big with my breath" Harry grumbled "It's a bit of a sore point, not being able to breathe fire so I don't use it much."

"That's actually a damn good question, why aren'tyou? I thought all dragons could" Yarbog asked.

"Beats me. Never been able to do it... say, what exactly _are _you?" Harry asked curiously _It's strange, holding a conversation with what amounts to a side of beef._

"We call ourselves _urgalgra_. Humans call us urgals." Yarbog snorted, irritated "and we resent being compared to human cattle".

"How did you-" Harry started, chagrined.

"His cousin's dragon looked just like that when she pointed out the resemblance." Yarbog interrupted, nodding to Roran.

"Sorry. I'd heard of urgals before, but I uh... never got a description."

Before Roran thought to intervene, Malver came running to them, followed by two varden who were helping a third person along between them.

"Cap'n! We got a problem!" Malver shouted.

"What is it Malver?"

"Well cap'n, we was clearin' out the barn like you said. Had my men herdin' em out real quick like and all but one of them villagers went back and picked up one o' the glowing rocks." The soldier sniffed disdainfully "Pretty enough I suppose. Thing blew up in her hand, tore it up real good it did."

Roran winced "That's unfortunate. But I don't see how I can help".

"Well, when the rock blew up a piece got stuck in her arm and we think it's killin' 'er. Seein' as to how it was yer dragon that made them rocks, we were hopin' you could help Cap'n".

"My dragon?" Roran repeated dumbly.

"I'm 'his' dragon now?" Harry echoed "I was considering eating him not half an hour ago!"

Malver flinched at the dragon's comment "Well... he's still around and flying all over th' place like his cousin, Shadeslayer. We just figured..."

"Never mind that" Roran interrupted despondently "let's see about that girl".

The two soldiers brought the girl to them. She was young, not yet thirty, dark hair and with the comely features common to young farmer girls that Roran could not help but feel a pang of homesickness for Carvahall and good heaping of guilt for what had happened to Alavir - and how similar it was to the fate of his own home.

_This may very well have been Katrina once upon a time..._

So long as these villagers remained faceless and nameless, he could go on playing soldier until they got back to camp and he could break down in private.

_Stick to the job Roran, don't ask too many questions and stay away _He told himself as he inspected the mostly unconscious girl along with the others.

Her right hand was badly torn apart by shrapnel from the crystal's shattering. She was not bleeding badly, however, as almost all her arm was frozen stiff and covered with a severe case of frostbite that was growing up her arm to her shoulder even as they watched. A small, red tinted shard of ice was stuck in her biceps with a shining blue light inside it that pulsed to the girl's heartbeat and gave the crystal a subtle purple glow that only accented the unnatural feel of the already grisly sight.

"Can you do anything?" Roran asked Harry.

Harry didn't answer, speechless and horrified by the sight of the girl. Now bereft of the rage he'd felt at the sight of Galbatorix's men, it struck him suddenly that he'd killed several men without more consideration than he'd give his dinner. Less, even; since he had hunger as an excuse for going after the latter.

_She's going to freeze to death _Harry thought absently to himself _and I'm probably in shock because I would usually be doing something about it._

Professor McGonagall's several dire -and gruesome- warnings about animagi transformations and how a human mind had to be trained to subsume the beast it was taking into itself, lest the wizard's consciousness be consumed, leaving him an animal.

_Am I still human after so long like this? _Harry wondered _Sirius wasn't all there if I'm honest with myself and Wormtail acted very much like a rat when he was human. Or it could be that he was just that much of a coward, but still... how much of me is Shruikan on the inside?_

_I went through a war without killing anyone _but _the one I was supposed to kill. Here I've killed several people already... and I'm not sure I wouldn't do so again if given the chance._

"Hey!" Roran yelled at Harry.

"Hm?" Harry asked absently when Roran snapped him out of his musings.

"Can you help the girl?" Roran asked pointedly.

"Well... I could break the crystal but that wouldn't help much. Once I take the energy from it, it will also explode and probably kill her in the process. There's a lot of energy stored there by now for it to just melt." Harry explained after a few moments' study "I'm not feeding it any power, but it's taking energy from the girl. It has to come out before it can be broken... just don't stick it into yourselves pulling it out."

"Can you do anything Carn?"

"I can stop the frostbite from spreading. It's not very difficult I think... just a matter of keeping the girls energy up and evenly spread, basic healer's training. When I run out of power though, we'll be back where we started. The dragon's right, the crystal has to come out.".

"Can't you do anything to help the frostbite before we pull the crystal out? Her arm's frozen stiff and if we have to dig the thing out, she may lose it." Roran explained with a grimace.

"She's bound to lose it anyway" Carn replied sadly "We don't usually see frostbite cases in the south and the few we got in Farthen Dûr where nowhere near as bad so I don't know any magic that would help much. I could start thawing it, but..."

"Something this bad will rot as soon as it is thawed." Roran finished "We saw frostbite fairly often in Carvahall during winter. There's nothing for it I guess... I'd pull the rock out but..." Roran nodded to his hands, which Harry was surprised to note were covered in bandages.

"I can do it myself, I think" Carn replied, gingerly taking the shard between thumb and forefinger to pry it out of the girls arm without cutting himself on the sharp edges. Once it was out, Carn laid his hand on the girl's right shoulder and muttered phrase in a language Harry did not understand. A ring of pale yellow light surrounded the girl's arm right below the shoulder, quickly thawing the area under the glowing bracelet back to a healthy pink.

"There, that should be enough for now. The rest is a lost cause, as I feared".

"Will you handle the amputation?" Roran asked the sorcerer once he'd finished his first aid.

"Yes. I'll put her up with the other wounded until she wakes up. Do you mind if I take this?" Carn asked Harry, lifting the crystal to his eyes "There's enough power here to help me get most of the wounded back on their feet by morning. No reason for it to go to waste."

"You sure that's wise, wizard?" Yarbog intervened "You saw what happened to the girl. Who's to say it won't blow up in your face?".

"Yarbog's right Carn, I'm not sure that's a good idea." Roran agreed.

All three of them turned to Harry.

"It's stable right now and it's pretty obvious when they are going to shatter. The light inside grows dim and flickers before they do."

"How soon after the flickering do they explode?" Carn asked.

Harry shrugged, which his body translated into an absent flick of the tail "Could be anything, really. Just get rid of it when it starts running low, to be safe."

"You said you could feed power into the crystals." Roran pointed out "Why not do that before it breaks?"

"I intend to sleep for one. Are you aware of your arms when you're asleep?" Harry asked snidely "And why would I do such a thing anyhow? I think we've established that I'm not very happy with you lot being here".

Roran shrugged himself "The sooner our wounded are on their feet, the sooner we'll be out of here".

"There is that. Alright, I'll throw some power your way before going to sleep but pay attention to it all the same." Harry agreed.

"Great! I'll get on with things then." Carn said, gesturing at the two men to grab the girl again.

"Malver, ask around the villagers to see if you can find this girl's family in the morning." Roran ordered. With another smart salute, Malver was on his way.

"Yarbog, get everyone together and make camp out here... I don't think the villagers are feeling very hospitable right now and they'll be even angrier once this gets out. I'd rather not be right in the middle of the village when it does."

Yarbog nodded and went back into the village as well.

"What about you? What will you do?" Roran asked the still pensive dragon.

"I was thinking of getting myself something to eat from the other end of the village. There's a lot of dead horses there. I need something to drink too, making all that ice left me real thirsty." Harry mused "Aside from that, I've got no real plans".

"Would you consider joining the Varden?" Roran asked brazenly.

Harry stared at the human, surprised yet again by his attitude "You're either very brave or very stupid, you know? You stepped up to an unknown dragon -who'd just killed several soldiers, mind you- and stroke up a conversation and now you ask me to join you? You haven't really made that great of an impression, as I'm sure you'll recall."

"That's just it" Roran said "It would be a chance for me to prove that we're not as bad as we may have come across. Granted, we're still an army at war and that sometimes leads to... difficult decision making, but we're all fighting for the same thing in the end and unlike the other side, we do try to look for alternatives before killing everything in the way."

"That we all want Galbatorix dead doesn't mean that we can work together" Harry huffed, annoyed once again at the circumstances behind their meeting "plus, there's no guarantee that your superiors would even agree to this. What's more, I don't get anything out of this besides a vague promise of help."

"Well, Saphira can get a decent meal when hunting is not an option. I don't see why you couldn't either" Roran said after thinking about Harry's points.

"This Saphira would be your cousin's dragon?"

"Yes. We're also hard pressed to fight Murtagh -he's Galbatorix's Rider- so I'm pretty certain that everyone would welcome another dragon. As to benefits, well... the only other sane dragon rides with us. And it's female" Roran finished with a straight face.

"...Are you trying to bribe me with pussy?" Harry sputtered.

"Is it working?" Roran asked wryly. Harry only growled back.

"Not to be crass, but it's something to consider. As far as Eragon -that's my cousin- has told me, Saphira and Murtagh's dragon, Thorn, were the last dragons alive... she didn't have many options for a potential mate and I think she'd rather kill Thorn rather than let him mount her. Sad really, because the fact that there are no more dragons weighs heavily on both of them. You'd be doing them both a great favor just by showing up."

"Is Saphira aware that you're whoring her out?" Harry asked, embarrassed at the topic.

"Obviously not! I'd thank you to keep this conversation to yourself if you ever meet her. I didn't survive meeting you only to get eaten by a friend."

"Anything else you want to add to the offer?"

"No need to be snide" Roran grumbled "It was a fair point. If you talk to them, you'll see why I mentioned it."

"I'll take your word for it."

"It's also very clear that you'd have a much better chance of seeing Galbatorix dead with another dragon and her Rider helping out, not to mention the Varden's standing army and powerful wizards that all want the emperor very much dead."

"Wizards you say?" Harry asked, suddenly interested.

"Poweful ones, yes. Most are pretty normal power wise; like Carn -although he's creative enough to be well above the average sorcerer- but there's some real powerful fellows in the Du Vrangr Gata." Roran explained "That's what the magic division of the Varden is called. Plus, there's a few elven sorcerers helping Eragon that are very skilled."

"It does sound like a very attractive offer" Harry mused. _It is that, if I... return to normal... once there, I can ask around all these wizards to try and figure out just what happened to me. Having another dragon for company wouldn't be bad either, she could explain why I can't breathe fire for one and probably a lot of other things I don't even know to ask about. Talking to her will probably also tell me how much I've changed from this._

"Think about it." Roran entreated "I'm waiting for word from the army to the south sometime in the afternoon, so we'll probably be leaving around that time."

"I'll be back by morning then"

"Alright then, although I'm surprised you're not asking me to stick with you."

"No need really, you have wounded men that won't be going anywhere until morning if Carn was right and with the crystal he's holding I also have your only Healer hostage. If you decide to get rid of it, you won't be getting your wounded ready to leave by tomorrow and I can check on you whenever I want or chase you down if you decide to go anyway." Harry explained calmly as he stood up.

"I... see."

"My warning from earlier still stands. See that your men to behave and we'll get along just fine"

"I still feel insulted that you'd think that we'd harm these people after we've gone out of our way to help them."

"The way I see it, it's the least you could do."

"Whatever. We'll change your mind about us if you decide to stay" Roran said, wincing as he moved his wounded hands to keep them from stiffening.

"What happened to your hands?"

"Funny you should ask, seeing as to how it's your fault. All that diving and turning and whatnot over the barns had me falling off your back every other second. I had to hold on to something not to fall to my death and those bloody spikes on your back are sharp." Roran grumbled "Tore through a good pair of leather gloves and left real deep cuts behind to go with that.".

"Oh... I thought your bitching was because you were scared of flying." Harry said, feeling sheepish "Sorry, it was my first time flying with someone on my back"

"That much was obvious." Roran needled "Saphira can teach you how to do that right if you want. She and Eragon are impressive in the air."

"I already said I'd think about it" Harry shook his wings open to leave.

"Fine, fine. Go eat and sleep already" Roran waved him off "What do I call you though? I can hardly keep calling you 'dragon'".

"I'm Shruikan." Harry answered before flying off.

_It's only fair I use his name to go with his body, I think._

*I borrow the term _breath weapon _ from D&D because I find it to be a very practical and descriptive manner to refer to a dragon's magical breath attack. I've never seen it referred to as such in Mr. Paolini's work, so I add this short explanation for those not familiar with pen and paper D&D terms.


	4. Red Haze

Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling _et ál_. The Inheritance Cycle is the property of Christopher Paolini _et ál_. No copyright infringement is intended with this work. No profit is being made from it's publishing either. This is merely written for enterntainment.

**Varden Main Encampment**

**Early Evening**

Sometime after midnight Urbog and Horin limped back into the Varden encampment tired, thirsty, and hungry.

"Halt! Who goes there?" cried the guard on watch.

"Owls coming home to roost!" Horin shouted the first part of the Varden scouting parties' password.

"The barn doors are open, pick a perch!" The guard replied.

"We'll sleep on the tool shed, if it's all the same to you" Urbog groaned beside Horin.

Once the nervous guard could see the approaching scouts in the light of the torches at the edge of camp, he saw a short man supporting a smallish urgal as they approached his post. He was no judge of urgal health, but the creature didn't look good: It was gasping air in great buffing breaths and thin white foam could be seen at the corner of its short muzzle, the man was practically dragging him along.

"That's the password for Stronghammer's unit, isn't it?"

The guard snapped out of his reverie when Horin addressed him.

"Isn't it?" Horin insisted.

"Y-yes"

"Then let us through already!" Horin snarled "He needs a healer!".

The guard quickly stepped aside, letting Horin and Urbog stumble on their way to the healing tents at the center of camp.

The walk was long and an urgal this far into the human end of things drew a lot of unwanted attention from the soldiery. For all that no one spoke to them, the hostility in the air was palpable.

While humans and urgals had been fighting together for a while, the former still harbored plenty of animosity for the latter and Nasuada's mandate of cooperation kept the peace by only the barest of margins. Even now, both armies marched separately and were encamped aways from each other with their only Dragon Rider stuck in the middle: a dragon deterrent and a human(oid) diplomat.

The exhausted scouts managed to reach their destination half an hour later and were received by the healer on duty; a young black haired woman too dour looking for the graveyard shift.

"What seems to be the problem, soldier?" she demanded, eyeballing Urbog.

"He's exhausted... ran nonstop all afternoon with me on his back. Think he broke an ankle for his trouble."

"Hurts like a bitch, it does"

The woman headed inside the tent and gestured for them to follow.

The was only one healing tent up and it was built for size. There was enough room to house a platoon and there'd still be room to shove more people inside if comfort wasn't an issue. There was a roaring fire in the hearth to light the place, showing a fully stocked and prepped field hospital.

The woman pushed several cots together "Lay down" she said, grabbing a jug of water and pushing it at Urbog "and drink all of this down. You're badly dehydrated from the looks of it".

"I know you" Urbog said suddenly after he'd lain down "you're the leader of the human's spirit talkers."

Trianna worked in silence a few minutes, feeling along Urbog's swollen left ankle and blithely ignoring his pained grunts.

Horin, however, observed her thoughtfully. "Trianna! That's your name innit? Saw you a couple times speaking to Shadeslayer back when Stronghammer had us taking lessons on how ta keep our heads private"

"My work would go a lot faster if you didn't insist on distracting me with your inane chatter." Trianna shot back.

"Just curious. Bit strange to see a big shot wizard down here... Figured healer's work'd be way under your pay grade is all"

She murmured a few words in the Ancient tongue that suffused her hands with a soft white glow and worked them carefully around the damage down to Urbog's hoof, eliciting a relieved groan from the urgal.

"If you must know," Trianna explained once the glow had faded "before the march began Eragon commanded that all able wizards were to take shifts in the healing tents when not otherwise occupied"

She prodded Urbog's hoof, causing the urgal to wince in pain. Trianna stood with an exasperated shake of her head and headed to a trestle work table at the back of the tent.

"What's strange is that you're the first urgal I've had to treat since we started marching together"

"I told the boy to go to our own healers but he wouldn't hear of it" Urbog said.

"And I told you that we're all Varden." Horin spat back, glaring at the sorceress "I'll be the first to admit I don't like looking at your ugly mug but we're all in this together. Until Galbatorix is dead and we can go back to killing each other, we gotta work together"

"Are you quite finished?"

"You won't treat him?" Horin asked, flabbergasted.

"Of course I will, it's whether or not I'd be any good for him that's debatable" she replied, rummaging through her stores "I don't really know anything about urgal physiology and I hesitate to experiment when I can simply consult their own experts. Can you take willow bark tea?"

"Yes" Urbog answered.

"That's something, at least. I can reduce the swelling and dose you with this" she explained, shaking the dried strips of willow bark "for the pain but anything more thorough will have to wait until morning so that we can get one of your people here."

"We can go get a healer right now" Urbog insisted "they're at the base of the Spirit Totem. Not hard to find at all, one of my aunts is a healer and sure to help"

"That would be... inadvisable" Trianna hedged "how long have you been gone?"

"'Bout three days" Horin explained "Us two had to head back with news. I just wanted to drop Urbog here afore headin' to command to report in"

"Two days ago Nasuada ordered half rations until the supply lines are established. I'm sure you noticed on your way in that it wasn't a very popular decision."

"And no mistake" Horin mumbled back.

"Quite. The urgals didn't take it any better and considering they chafe at human command at the best of times, I don't think it's a good idea for you to go into their camp right now"

An annoyed huff was the urgal's only comment.

"What do you think Urbog?" Horin nudged "Will you be alright staying here for the night?"

Urbog shrugged "It's not like there's a lot of people here and she seems to be on the level"

"Come to think of it, why's everything set up in here?" Horin asked It feels like you're expecting cartloads of wounded soldiers to come rolling in"

"Most of the army's been like that for days now and those of us still sane have been waiting for the other shoe to drop" Trianna said, hanging a pot of water over the hearth fire "None dead yet fortunately"

"There's been fighting?" Urbog asked

"There's been quarreling for some time now but it got a lot worse once we stopped here three days ago" Trianna said, laying down on a cot of her own "We had this place half full until this morning actually. We took advantage of the lull to get some rest, I just drew the short straw for the watch"

"Can I grab a cot here then? Just in case" Horin asked.

"Help yourself"

"I'll report in and head back as soon as possible, okay? Get some rest"

Urbog just waved the human out.

Horin walked out of the healers tent and headed to the command post. Now that he was not lugging his urgal comrade around he noted that Trianna was very much correct in her assessment of the army's overall mood. There was an air of despondency about the camp -even this close to Lady Nasuada's tent- that it was impossible not to notice, really. It was a dangerous sort of mood, dejected, dissatisfied men were unpredictable at the best of times and they couldn't afford desertion or mutiny so close to Belatona.

_It's strange too... _Horin thought to himself _most of these people are career soldiers, they've always been disciplined. A couple cold days and half rations shouldn't have caused this, not in this army. We left Feinster singing our hearts out for heaven's sake!_

As Horin walked up the torch lit path to the encampment's command post, marked by Lady Nasuada's coat of arms staked outside it, Horin noticed that patrols had been doubled and that a good part of the supply train was parked next to the command tent under heavy guard.

He stood there in the middle of the path staring dumbly at all the mules packed close together in makeshift stalls next to the piled crates and bundles of their foodstuffs with several guards posted around them.

Not only did that go against every Surdan military protocol that ever was -and the Varden were a Surdan army no matter what anybody said- blocking most of the paths up to Lady Nasuada's tent and creating the biggest liability in camp if they were to be attacked; it was also out of character for old Jörmundur who up until now had been running a very tight ship.

It made no sense.

_Well, at least there's a reason for the guards _Horin grumbled _if the men have been like this or worse for the past couple of days, they sure need to guard the food._

_Whose _idea it was to move the food in the first place was more important in Horin's opinion. Since this urgal alliance started, it was common practice to park the supply train between both camps (as humans still wanted no part of the urgals outside of the battlefield and even there they couldn't agree on which side they'd prefer to have them on) to assuage suspicion in case of measures like, well, a call for half rations. Arguably, having it parked between both camps would also help defend it.

Horin was startled out of his musings when he realized that the Nighthawks, Lady Nasuada's personal guard, were also out in force by her tent and very obviously talking about him amongst themselves.

_Probably wondering what I am doing._

Trying not to feel self conscious about his looks fresh from the road, Horin quickly walked the rest of the way up to the imposing guards.

"What is it boy?" demanded one of the four men guarding the tent.

Horin grit his teeth in a sudden bout of irritation at the man and bit back a heated reply. Granted, at twenty he was on the younger end of things here in the army but he'd enlisted since coming of age at fifteen. He wasn't what anyone would call a _boy_.

_Who does this idiot think he is? _

"Scout Horin from Stronghammer's unit. I need to make an urgent report to Lady Nasuada. On his orders".

The guards looked at one another for a moment and the first one stared at him suspiciously.

"Stronghammer's unit hasn't returned yet. What're you doing back?"

"He's chasin' them bastard's what've been burning towns ahead of us. I was sent back to report on his position."

"What's so urgent about it that couldn't wait until tomorrow morning?" the guard asked.

"I've been ordered to talk only to Lady Nasuada and no one else about this" Horin replied sternly.

"Convenient" the guard sneered, not moving an inch.

"This is ridiculous!" Horin growled, exasperated "the Captain can talk to both Lady Nasuada and Commander Jörmundur whenever he damn well pleases. They both know all our unit by name! YOU people know us all. Let me in already."

The guards looked doubtfully at each other again. What Horin said was true, since Roran's urgal-human command had been established; all Nighthawks had been briefed on the handpicked members of the unit and there were standing orders to let Roran in to speak to Nasuada herself at any time unless she was otherwise occupied. Some of the lady's elite guard where even personally acquainted with Roran's soldiers because of their frequent visits to headquarters prior to leaving Feinster.

"See here - " the first guard started after the tense pause when a heated argument from inside the tent interrupted them.

"... the use of a military advisor if you'll ignore everything I say!" Jörmundur yelled from inside the tent, presumably at Nasuada.

In the sudden quiet outside, Horin tried his best to ignore the argument but now understood the guards' bluster for the stalling it was. The mood had gone from tense to awkward in the space of a few seconds.

"I _have _to talk to them!" Horin whispered.

"SOD protocol!" the Commander bellowed inside the tent "You'll starve us on Belatona's doorstep if you keep this up!"

"You have your orders Commander!" Nasuada rebuked.

After a moment a red faced Jörmundur stormed out of the tent, nearly bowling over Horin and the guard blocking his path. They all watched him go until a dejected sigh from the first guard broke the silence.

"I'll announce you. Wait here."

"That's quite out of character for both of them" Horin said to the remaining guards.

"It's been very weird lately" one of them replied, leaning tiredly against his halberd "everybody's so tense... we're all about to snap. It doesn't take anything to set people off and when they do flip their lids... _that _happens" he finished, absently pointing his weapon at the commander's retreating back.

It really scared Horin to see that it wasn't only the rank and file that were out of sorts. However, he was called inside before he could think to ask anymore questions.

"Lady Nasuada will see you now" the first guard said as he came out, holding the tent's flap open for him.

The scout warily stepped inside the tent which looked to be as gloomy as the rest of camp tonight. It was also big affair, as army tents went. The leader of the Varden was seated at her candlelit table, still wearing her riding leathers and looking very haggard.

"Well? Out with it. I gather you're not here with good news, else you'd have had the decency of waiting until morning"

Horin gaped at her unusual show of temper.

"Any day now soldier. Keep this up and I'll have you lashed for wasting my time!"

Nasuada's threat rallied Horin's wits and he stumbled over a hasty bow.

"My Lady! Scout Horin from Stronghammer's unit, reporting."

"I already know who you are. Get on with it" she growled.

"Our unit found the trail of the bastards that've been burning down towns and fields on our way. Captain Roran rode for Alavir with all possible haste when we separated. He sent me back to report and to ask for reinforcements to hold the town once they're rid of them imperials. He..."

"Yes?" Nasuada pressed at the soldier's hesitation.

"We also saw that the next two resupply towns on our route have been attacked already" Horin flinched at the loud snap of Nasuada's quill breaking in her hand "Stronghammer suspected that this was not the only raiding party sent out from Belatona. He thinks it's very possible that all towns inside fifty leagues west and north of our position have been emptied or torched"

The scout wisely staid silent when Nasuada flung her chair back with a curse -and it was a curse even if he didn't speak the tongue... curses had a habit of sounding alike across all languages-. _Then again, who knows. It's the first time I've seen her do such a thing _Horin thought absently _I thought she didn't know how to cuss like a proper soldier._

It seemed to Horin that, after a couple of minutes of furious pacing and mumbling, that Nasuada had forgotten about him . Sadly, he knew he couldn't leave until he'd given a complete report... which was going to be difficult with the general in such a state.

_Damn it... this is why you don't put a woman on a job like this _Horin thought angrily _Something goes wrong and they fly off the handle. If I'd known things were like this back here I'd have taken my chances chasing after the traitor and his dragon. _

"What are you _still _doing here?" she asked suddenly.

"My report's not finished." Horin growled back, making no effort to temper the angry scowl on his face "Ma'am".

Taking her stony silence as his cue, Horin finished his report.

"A couple of hours before we made it here Urbog and I saw Murtagh and his dragon flying north. Headed back to Belatona, we think"

"WHAT?"

"It was already getting dark but we've had clear skies all day. They flew low and flamed something on the ground as they went... they were obvious against the sky. We were far enough that they didn't see us. After they were gone we double timed it here without stopping"

For all her initial outrage, Nasuada was suddenly silent, contemplating her subordinate's report for a minute.

"Get out of here." She growled under her breath, clearly heard in the oppressive silence "Get out of here and send Eragon to me posthaste! Speak of this to no one else."

Horin made a quick exit after a stiff bow for protocol's sake and headed to Eragon's usual camping grounds, irritation still simmering in his gaze.

After several minutes of dodging around tents and drawing knowing looks from his fellow soldiers Horin left the human side of camp and walked to a lone tent in the clearing between the human and urgal encampments.

An indistinct form uncurled itself from around the tent and a pair of glowing blue eyes turned to look at him as he approached.

"_Greetings Horin. I was unaware that Roran's unit had returned"_

"Evenin' Bright Scales" Horin said aloud, acknowledging the voice in his head "We ain't back yet. The captain sent me back to make an urgent report and I'm just getting back from command. Is Eragon in? Boss Lady didn't like what I had to say'n she wants'im there five minutes ago"

"I'm up! I'm up!" cried a voice from inside the tent before the dragon could reply.

Eragon -dubbed the Shadeslayer by the Varden for his killing the shade Durza beneath Farthen Dûr- stepped outside the tent and blinked owlishly at Horin.

If it was uncomfortable for the soldier to talk to his captain's cousin on a normal day, it was downright creepy after the day he'd had. It was not so much howhe looked _now _that was the problem; it was that according to everyone he used to be perfectly normal -aside from Saphira going with him pretty much everywhere-.

Then he went with the elves and came back looking like _that_ inside of a year.

Whether or not whatever was done to him was catching (or repeatable by those elves guarding Eragon) was a topic of some concern among the rank and file and since no one had worked up the nerve to come up to the Rider and ask him, everyone was ill at ease around the elves (and Eragon himself) to some degree.

That the transformation seemed to be progressing didn't help matters any. With the passing of the weeks Eragon's hair and eyes had gained a subtle sheen alien to any human; his ears had been growing a fine point and were now basically indistinguishable from an elf's and while he still grew facial hair -unlike his bodyguards- it managed to add to his unearthly mien given that he'd never once looked scruffy despite the days on the road. If you added the lithe grace and superhuman strength he shared with his elven guard on top of all the stories told about him, it made him a figure out of legend that was very much unapproachable for anyone but the most ennobled of people. And his farmer cousin.

In Horin's opinion (and everyone else's who'd ever come in contact with both dragon and Rider) it was easier to talk to the dragon.

"What's wrong?"

"Boss wants you back at her place five minutes ago" Horin grumbled "She didn't much like my report and you're like to end up hunting for the traitor overnight. Never mind that I told her _he _was already gone".

"Murtagh's been here?" Eragon exclaimed.

"Not awful close to camp or anything but we crossed paths with him on our way back"

"_You'd better start from the beginning_" Saphira "_We've both had little rest over the last couple of days and are very tense. Best to clear things up._"

Horin took a deep breath and related his trip back to camp once more, adding what had happened at the command tent. By the end of his tale the young man had worked himself into a fine lather and it didn't seem to Saphira like he was going to stop any time soon.

"...so y'see, she's out of control. Way out of line, Shadeslayer! I know I'm not the oldest of soldiers but I signed up back when Ajihad still called the shots and let me tell you; if we had a man like him in that tent we wouldn't be sitting here with our thumbs up our asses while Galbatorix runs circles around us".

"_Horin, you need to calm down_" Saphira spoke into his mind with little success.

"Commander Jörmundur's got the right of it. We need to get back behind our walls before whatever bastard is in charge at Belatona decides it's a good idea to empty the city and kill the lot of us! Not that it'd be too difficult, half starved and frozen as we're like to be by then..."

"_HORIN!_" Saphira cried into the scout's mind, snapping her teeth before the distracted human's eyes and startling him out of his rant.

"Sorry... I..." Horin mumbled, unable to take his eyes off the dragon's mouth so close to his face "I'm also very tired. The trip back was awful hard even if it wasn't dangerous and then to get back to _this _mess? It's got me pretty stressed out".

"_You should go get some rest while you can" _Saphira said, not unkindly.

"Yeah, I probably should" Horin agreed with a tired sigh "Good luck to you Shadeslayer. Mood she's in, you're bound to need it. T'was true what I said before, bitch's frothing at the mouth."

Having said his goodbyes, Horin was about leave when Eragon called after him.

"Horin! Before you go, could you do me a favor?"

"What'cha need?"

"Do you remember the shielding exercises we practiced with your unit before we left Feinster?"

"Yeah..." Horin replied, puzzled "What of 'em?"

"Could you put up a shield for a moment please?"

"What for?" Horin asked, annoyed all over again "A midnight pop quiz?"

"Exactly. You've got to stay sharp and there's no better test for mental discipline than a situation like this."

Horin considered leaving for a moment but Eragon's stern gaze held him in place and eventually convinced him that acquiescing would be in his best interests.

Closing his eyes to make the task easier, Horin went about the herculean task of setting aside his tiredness and annoyance to create the mental construct that he used for defense.

While he usually found the task difficult since neither he (nor any of his unit's members save Roran for that matter) had any aptitude for such a thing, it was now an exercise in frustration. His unit hadn't had many chances to practice the skill given that the habitual use for such mental protections was to keep sorcerers out of their heads in the heat of battle; making them more difficult targets, or to keep their thoughts protected in case they were captured or sneaking around enemy lines.

Gradually, Horin emptied his mind of all thought but the one image he used to focus his defenses.

Horin brought to bear everything he could remember of his parent's house; a place he was so familiar with that he could reproduce it seamlessly in his mind's eye even after several years away. As usual, he started by recalling the narrow Reavstone street where his parent's house was at. It was the easiest part of the construct since in his experience the place was almost always deserted, being out of the way and far from the docks.

He started having problems with his visualization right from the start. Every time he tried to bring up the image of the quaint cobblestoned street and his parent's white stucco porch, scenes from the Feinster siege intruded into his head, sometimes creating warped war torn visions of his home that chilled his blood and angered him more than he cared to admit. While Eragon normally attacked those he taught to test their skill, he was seldom so vicious about it and if these visions got any more personal he wouldn't be able to retain his detachment (and thus, his defense).

Deciding he wouldn't be able to craft anything more precise, Horin corrected everything in his mind's image one thing at a time. He removed blood spatters and corpses from the street, vanished warring soldiers and frightened civilians one by one, put off fires and blew away smoke, finally silencing the great din of battle around them until the street was pristine and blurred into nothingness on both ends... quiet and peaceful as he remembered; albeit bathed in a disturbing red light that shone from a crimson, cloudless sky.

This last aspect of the invasion proved to be the most resilient but even that could be fixed and after a while, Horin managed to make the clear blue of a summer day bleed into his mind's sky.

With the outside built to perfection Horin turned to the house itself, since Eragon hadn't yet called an end to the exercise as he usually did. That was odd all on its own, since it'd been drilled into his head that the more familiar the environment he based his mindscape on, the easier it would be to spot -and repel- attackers.

Looking into the windows of his mental construct revealed nothing but a black void. Unsurprising, really, since Horin knew that he did not have the mental fortitude or agility needed to build such an intricate environment instantly. He was very much able to do so with enough time though, and once he was inside it would be easy to end this little test if Eragon didn't push overmuch.

Taking a moment to gather his image of the house, Horin stepped into the black void inside it and tried to divorce the idea of _house_ from the years of _home_. It was a difficult process for him on account of both his youth and the feelings attached to the place. If he ever had to defend his mind from serious intrusion this was, according to Eragon, the most vulnerable part of his defense because to allow memories to crowd into his mindscape was to give information to whomever may be listening. Information that could be used to hide an attack that would lay his mind bare.

The smell was the first thing to hit him as soon as he crossed the doorway. Wood from the old, solid furniture his mother favored and the faint stink of the docks that his father always dragged in when he returned home at night.

_Did I make the house smell like that just now or was it already like this when I opened the door?_

Horin shaped the candelabra on the foyer table, blindly stretching his hand into the gloom and grasping where he knew his mother always kept it beside the door. With the door open behind him, the candle wicks were easy to make out.

_I'll light the candles and I build the house as I go... easier if I don't worry about everything at once._

"About time you came back, boy. Close the door and go to my office... we gotta talk, you and I."

His father's rasping voice, coming from the cloakroom just ahead froze Horin stiff.

_It's not him! It's just Eragon being a dick!_

Horin tried frantically to dissipate his father's outline, now heading into the house proper if his steps on the wooden floor were anything to go by.

"Oh for heaven's sake..." the person who couldn't be his father mumbled to himself "three healthy sons drowned at sea'n it was the stupid one I got to keep."

"Dad... I..." Horin stuttered, taking a hesitant step backwards when the door slammed against his back, nearly pitching him forward.

The candles he was holding lit on their own before his father spoke from somewhere down the hallway.

"Yer not goin' ANYwhere until I've said me piece boy. Left once already and it almost killed yer ma if'n you give a shit about it. Go. To. The. Office."

Forgetting all his training, Horin dumbly followed behind his father's stomping steps propelled by years of ingrained obedience; absently noting indistinct shapes of furniture around him. His feet remembered the way much better than he did at the moment, dodging obstacles that had been in his home for years and appeared from out of the darkness just in time for him to avoid them.

He eventually reached the door to his father's office. It floated alone amidst a vast expanse of black that should have been a wall, perfectly evoking the ominous dread he felt watching the thing as a child... His father only called him into his office for punishment and he'd grown to fear the door -and the study beyond it- for the pain they heralded.

Ironically, it was the surge of adrenalin that these memories shot through his body that snapped Horin out of the stupor he was in. However, the door creaked open on its own and he walked in, very much against his will, unable to offer any resistance.

The study he walked into was a perfect copy of the real one in his memories: A big room, all wood paneling and velvet draperies, with an imposing desk dominating the room and fine furnishing all around. It was dark inside; only Horin's candles provided any light.

Someone was sitting behind the desk.

It was too perfect a recreation of a place he'd never bothered with when building a mindscape of his childhood home. He'd never cared enough to even try! Yet, here it was.

This, more than anything, drove home the fact that he was in real danger.

_You're not my father! _Horin wanted to shout at the figure, but the words stuck in his throat.

"You deserted your post" The man stated bluntly "you went to your military service and you deserted on the very first day"

That was something his father would say... that Horin _knew _his father would say.

_You're not my father! _He wanted to scream.

"It wasn't like that! Surdan regulars can choose to serve with the Varden if they want to!" his mouth said instead.

"The Varden..." the impostor scoffed "they've been making noise for a hundred years and they've got jack shit to show for it. Ye call yerself a Surdan soldier? Oughta been fightin' Surda's enemies then"

The stranger's disdain rankled Horin because it also was something his father had never made a secret of.

"We've damn well been fighting 'em!" Horin replied hotly, his thoughts mirroring the words coming out of his mouth "we gave Galbatorix a black eye at Feinster and the Burning Fields! We're coming for him now!"

The man behind the desk laughed uproariously "Five years gone and you call those 'victories'? You may have turned him back at the Burning Fields but you lost half your army and a king in the bargain"

The man rummaged in the desk drawers for his pipe and tobacco "Your little pet Rider couldn't handle the traitor either" he continued, stuffing his pipe "and lets not forget that for all his failures against Murtagh, the Varden couldn't break Feinster without _his _help. What's that say about your army, boy?"

Horin couldn't think of anything to say to that.

"Feinster is no enemy of Surda for that matter" his father's voice mused around the pipe "it was only _in the way_. Kuasta... them's real Surdan enemies... they've been at it for over fifty years and it's Galbatorix everyone's trying to kill."

"There it is boy, the sum total of your vaunted Varden actions in the last hundred years amount to a rather pyrrhic victory at the Burning Fields and the sacking of Feinster" The man took a long drag on the pipe and the tobacco lit itself, showing grisly visage in stark relief against the darkness around it. A face covered by terrible burns, flesh melted to the bone in parts and a constant grin showing through the remnants of its lips; without a nose and bloody empty sockets where its eyes should have been.

"We... we didn't sack no city" Horin managed to reply in a trembling voice that was finally his own "we just did what we had to".

"You fought, killed and burned your way to the keep" the figure with his father's voice stated and with a sudden boom outside there was fire all around the house. Flickering light came through the windows making the presence in the room more monstrous for the sight of his father's voice, if not his words, coming from such a creature.

"You kicked down every door along the way and killed everything you found inside, just to be safe"

A sudden crash behind him made him turn his back on the... person? demon? at the desk and he found himself in a small living room he vaguely recalled from the Feinster siege. Just like he remembered, Roran was there with the warhammer they'd used to bash in the doors of barricaded homes to rout enemy soldiers.

Horin was dressed as a civilian, unarmed and alone. A sinister chuckle echoed about the house as Roran advanced with murder in his eyes.

Horin tried to back into the room he'd been in but felt cold dread creep up his spine when he bumped into a wall after the first step. He registered that the whole house had changed a moment before Roran hefted his warhammer and swung at him.

Barely dodging left, he scrambled to his feet before the impostor could pull his weapon out of the broken wooden flooring. Under a narrow staircase in front of him, Horin could see a tiny kitchen space with a cast iron stove on one side, a small table on the other and a clear path to a closed door on the opposite wall. Across the room to his right was the open door leading outside.

The creaking of abused wood urged him on. _Open door is better!_

Horin leapt on the living room table, rolled across it and with a strength born of panic flipped it onto Roran. He ran desperately for the open door but it slammed shut so fast that Horin bounced off of it with a broken nose and seeing stars.

"Bullshit!" he cursed, cupping his bloody face with one hand and pulling angrily with the other on the door. It wouldn't budge.

Horin heard Roran heave the table off his back and turned to see his captain's lookalike stand up and approach him again, sporting a bloodthirsty grin.

"What was I expecting?" Horin grumbled to himself "the man wrestles urgals for fun!"

He realized that the staircase he'd noticed earlier was just next to the closed door and hurried up the stairs.

"Finally!" Horin cried when he saw a window at the top of the stairs and climbed as fast as he could.

The false Roran didn't seem to be in a hurry only now reaching the bottom.

He didn't jump through the window though, because once at the top he noticed that reflected on the pane was the gruesome monster from the study. It was shaking its pipe empty with a gleeful grin on its face.

Horin blanched when he saw a stream of flame cascade from the tiny pipe's reflection onto the wooden floor. He instinctively threw his arms up to protect himself and that saved his face from burning up in the conflagration that exploded inside the house's second floor. Horin was thrown halfway down the stairs, catching hold of one of the handrail's supports to keep himself from tumbling head first all the way down.

With a pained groan Horin opened his eyes to the upside down impostor, weapon raised to squash his head against the stairs.

He hauled himself up as fast as he could. The hammer crashed into the stairs and showered him with splinters, leaving Horin panting from fear.

_I have to get out of here!_

Horin braced himself against the wall and desperately kicked at the thin supports he'd held on to. One of them, already weak from stopping his earlier fall, broke in half allowing him just enough space to push himself down onto the first floor.

He screamed out loud when the awkward landing twisted an ankle, dropping him face first on the floor. Nearly blacking out from exhaustion, Horin heard Roran tug his weapon free and leap over the handrail.

Horin saw the thing's shadow thrown over him by the flames on the second floor. It was closing in, weapon raised again.

He searched around him for something, anything, that would help and noticed the jagged piece of wood he'd broken within reach. Discreetly palming it, Horin waited until the impostor was close enough to swing.

Before the hammer came down, Horin surged upwards in a blind rage; surprising the impostor just long enough to allow him to turn and stab the piece of wood into its leg. The creature dropped its weapon and fell on top of a livid Horin who, despite his injuries, managed to flip the bigger man around and punch him.

"You're not my father!" Horin screamed into its face.

Another punch.

"You're not Roran!"

A third.

"And you're not fucking going to kill me here!"

His last punch was strong enough to stun the creature, allowing Horin to push himself upright and limp to the closed front door as fast as he could.

"...and since this is my own head..." he growled to himself "if I want the damn door open, it'll bloody well OPEN!" he screamed as he yanked on the door, throwing all his weight into it.

The door opened with so little resistance Horin almost fell down but he managed to keep hold of it. The moment he stepped outside he found himself back on the cobblestoned street he'd first built, still pristine and quiet. He was battered, burnt and almost senseless but free of the house that looked, from the outside, just like his parents' home.

He used the last of his strength to create sturdy storm shutters over the windows and thick chains keeping the front door closed before finally blacking out from exhaustion.

Horin came to on the ground, wracked by pain.

"Don't move. You're very hurt" Eragon said from somewhere above him.

"No shit man, really? The fuck did you do to me?"

"Nothing much yet. I need to get you moving before I can finish putting you back together." Eragon explained before murmuring soft words in the ancient language that brought instant relief to the wounded scout.

"Heavens... that's a lot better... but really, what the hell happened?"

"It's what's been hounding us for a while now... whatever it is, it's been taking over the minds of soldiers at camp for the past few days, weeks perhaps. I'm going to sit you up, stay still." Eragon said after he finished casting his spell.

Once Horin was sitting, he realized that most of his wounds had carried over from whatever had happened inside his head.

"...No wonder I feel so bad"

"Yeah. Most people who stayed under as long as you did, didn't survive" Eragon explained as he carefully cut Horin's leather armor off of him "People with some training can actually resist the Red Haze's influence if they're made aware of it but whatever it does as it attacks their minds causes actual physical wounds."

Horin stayed quiet as Eragon worked on his arms, watching as the severe burns on his arms scarred over until most of the pain was gone.

"How're you feeling? Is that all?" Eragon asked.

"I've got a busted ankle too, I think. Everything hurts."

"Just like the others then..." Eragon mused.

After a few more words in the ancient tongue and several minutes of crunching noises in his body that felt as though they should hurt, Eragon asked him to try moving his arms and legs.

"Why was I this hurt?" Horin asked "It was only the burns and the foot inside my head. Some bad hits too I guess, but nothing this bad"

Eragon leaned back against Saphira to rest after the very intense healing session "This magic makes the people it possesses stronger, move faster even when the human body can't really handle things like that. You've been fighting me like a madman all this time on top of all that was happening... broke many ligaments and hurt most of the muscles in your arms and legs in the process"

"Couldn't you just put me down with some spell?" Horin wondered.

"I tried, but it also makes you mildly resistant to magic. If I'd used something stronger I may have ended up doing permanent damage from the stress. This also made healing you more difficult... be careful with your arms in particular, as they'll be weak from the burns and the scarring for some time yet"

"So, is this Red Haze why everyone is acting so weird?" Horin asked once he'd proven that he could move with only slight discomfort.

"I think so, yes" Eragon answered after a moment's deliberation "We believe it attacks while we sleep. That's why otherwise trained people, like Lady Nasuada and the Commander could fall under its power with no one the wiser"

"But what about you? or the urgals?" Horin asked, worried for Urbog "How did you find it out if it only works when we're asleep?"

"_I noticed first" _Saphira explained smugly "_A Rider's mind is bonded with his dragon's and this... creature... didn't seem to know how to handle me when it went after Eragon_"

"Yes, she's been keeping me safe for a while now" Eragon admitted, patting the dragon fondly "When I realized what was happening I brought all our sorcerers together and had them raise their mental defenses. They all went through what you did just now. We... lost some to their wounds."

"Why not try the same with the General and Commander Jörmundur?"

"It was the first thing I tried" Eragon explained, grim faced "This thing attacked me the night before you left with Roran... by then both Lady Nasuada and Jörmundur had been acting odd for days. It wasn't so bad that most would notice and I thought it was stress from the march..."

Horin said nothing as Saphira gently nuzzled Eragon.

"...Anyway. They wouldn't listen to reason and when I tried to probe into their minds I was cast out without their noticing anything. Her guards did notice though,and while they were polite about it, they pretty much told me that anything else of the sort would mean a fight."

"They're clean, aren't they? The Nighthawks, I mean" Horin asked, remembering the worried guards at Nasuada's tent.

"Yes. The oath they take seems too strong and binding for this magic to affect them but they're bound to defend Nasuada from anything they perceive as an attack all the same. I asked their captain to keep both her and the Commander under guard and out of trouble as well as he could while a solution was found".

"Why tell me all this?" Horin asked, shocked by all that he'd been told "It sounds like something a grunt like me shouldn't really know."

"Because you survived this" Eragon said "I've put together a contingency plan in case this goes south but the Du Vrangr Gata is stretched very thin. You and your friend Urbog can help"

Horin gingerly stood up "What do you need us to do, Shadeslayer?"

"The urgals haven't been attacked by the Red Haze, as we've taken to calling it, and they're familiar with similar magics as well so they've been helping me counter it thus far" Eragon explained "Every mage in camp has been equipped with a fetish that keeps people around the wearer calm".

"That's why nobody's dead yet!"

"Mostly, although the Haze has been growing steadily stronger" Eragon nodded "Nar Garzvogh had his shamans set up a defense around their camp that will protect the minds of those inside if the effects of this curse worsen. _If _that does happen, every fetish will create an area around it that will push back the effects of the Haze for a time"

Eragon stood up as well and straightened up his clothes "Every member of Du Vrangr Gata has instructions to bring people into the urgal encampment in this case. You two will help Trianna with her mission and escort her and her charges into our defenses if needed"

"Will do Shadeslayer, anything else?"

"Sleep in shifts and wake each other up if it seems someone is growing restless" Eragon sighed, leading the way back to camp "Since Murtagh was around, it's more than likely that he's behind this curse. If he's on his way back to Belatona..."

"...It means that he's finished whatever he was doing"

"Indeed. Stay sharp Horin, I think it won't be long before this goes south. We'll have to be ready when it does"

"I will Eragon and good luck with Nasuada"

"I'll certainly need it"

"Good night Saphira!" Horin said, waving at the dragon.

"_Good night Horin, rest as much as you can"_

Horin walked back to the healing tents skirting around as many restless soldiers as he could, trying not to think of the harrowing experience at Eragon's tent... and the cruel admonishments spoken in his father's voice.

_Tomorrow is really going to suck..._


	5. Opening Moves

Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling _et ál_. The Inheritance Cycle is the property of Christopher Paolini _et ál_. No copyright infringement is intended with this work. No profit is being made from its publishing either. This is merely written for entertainment.

**Varden Encampment, Alavir**

**Midnight**

"Still awake?" Carn asked sitting beside Roran before the small lean-to he'd made to have some cover from the wind.

"Can't sleep."

"I just left the others to get some rest, Yarbog's got the watch." Carn said, laying down on the grass "He says you've been looking poleaxed since Shruikan left."

"Nasty shock, is all."

"Come on Captain, talk to us! We can't help you if you don't tell us what's wrong."

Roran said nothing.

"Yarbog thinks the stupid is just catching up to you. 'Of course he's in shock' he said. 'The idiot leapt on a rampaging dragon this afternoon. That kind of stupid takes some time to sink in."

Roran couldn't hold back a chuckle "It's not that he took me for a ride. I was fairly certain he wouldn't kill me."

"Well, true. He could've killed us without landing... but if it's not that, then what's wrong?" Carn asked.

"He told me his name."

"That's had you looking poleaxed all night?"

"He's Shruikan!"

Carn gave him a blank look.

"...of the Forsaken?"

"I get the feeling that should mean something bad to me."

"It means he's Galbatorix's dragon!" Roran muttered.

"...Oh."

"There's that poleaxed look." Roran sighed "No wonder you were worried."

"Are you sure?" Carn asked, bewildered.

"As sure as I can be." Roran shrugged "Eragon's told me some things about the war before the Empire; the name came up more than once. He could tell us for certain."

"It is an odd name... you could have it wrong."

"Galbatorix's dragon is said to be black. Not much room for mistake there."

A nervous silence settled between them.

It didn't really feel like Alavir was inhabited after everything that happened earlier. The place was quiet and the wind howled across the narrow valley, carrying the smell of burnt wood and making it feel all the more desolate.

"What difference does it make anyway?" Carn wondered. "He seems to want Galbatorix dead just as much as we do. Besides, things could have gone a lot different here if he hadn't helped."

"If half of what Eragon's told me is true, I think he's got much better reasons than us for wanting the Emperor dead." Roran mused. "How did it go with the wounded?"

"Great actually. There was a lot of juice in that little shard... I tried to be discrete when I used it though." Carn explained "If the story behind it gets back to the Du Vrangr Gata, I don't want to imagine what they'd do."

"Trianna would shove one of those into every imperial we found, for starters. If the brass lets us bring Shruikan along, that is."

"I don't see why they shouldn't. I bet almost nobody knows what you told me... and I think you can convince your cousin not to make a scene, can't you?"

"It's not the soldiers I'm worried about. They'd just see another dragon along to help, a good thing all in all," Roran said. "But almost all the higher ups know the story behind Galbatorix and the Riders... they'd call it a trap for sure."

The sudden crash of the brittle lean-to around them had both Carn and Roran scrambling to their feet, grasping for weapons they were not wearing and pale from fright. Behind them, shaking splinters off a leg loomed the imposing figure of Yarbog. He didn't look very happy.

"If I were any imperial idiot out to make a fortune, I'd be halfway back to Uru'baen by now and you two idiots would be none the wiser." the Urgal growled.

"The hell was that for, Yarbog?" Roran cried.

"You're yapping about things that ought to be secret out here where everyone and their dog can hear you! At least try to keep an eye out!"

"You heard all that?" Carn asked.

"Of course I did! It's not like you were trying to be quiet." Yarbog growled.

The urgal leaned closer to both humans, so as to not be heard.

"And for the record, Stronghammer, you should do everything you can to make sure that dragon comes with us come morning or we'll all regret it."

"What do you mean?"

"If it's not Galbatorix's dragon, he'll still be a chance at fielding another Rider against the Empire," Yarbog explained "and if he is... then he was there since the beginning and he knows the enemy better than anybody alive today."

The Urgal headed to the flickering fires of the resting soldiers some distance away.

"If Lady Nasuada can't see that just the possibility of this not being a trap outweighs any disadvantage, she doesn't deserve to lead this army."

"He's right about that, Roran." Carn agreed.

"Galbatorix's dragon wouldn't have made contact with an enemy like this without his Rider close by either." Roran mused. "Not unless he killed us all, I think. If Galbatorix were here, they wouldn't have a reason to make nice with us small fish. Eragon can barely handle Murtagh; if Galbatorix flew in, there'd be no stopping him."

"So... you're saying that..."

"This is very probably the real thing." Roran smiled at the tired wizard.

"Do you think he'll come along?"

"I don't know. We'll see in the morning, I suppose. Still, help and companionship ought to count for a lot... world's changed a lot since Shruikan was out and about."

"There's only three dragons left, for starters." Carn said.

"I can't imagine what that must feel like..." Roran wondered "Come on, I need to find someplace else to sleep at since Yarbog busted mine, the bastard."

**London, 1979**

"The Tower of London..." Tom Riddle mused "that's a risky move for the old goat."

"The Order must have been banking on secrecy to keep their operation safe, my Lord." an unmasked, young Lucius Malfoy replied.

"Indeed. You did a good job in finding this base Lucius, although your supplier is running late."

"Severus will be here Master, I've given him directions to this place and he has ample experience moving in the muggle world."

"This attack would be much more complicated without his potions." Voldemort stirred and drank the last of the tea in the cup before him. "I trust everything else is in order?"

"Yes, my Lord. The flight team is ready and waiting at my penthouse. The Carrows are standing by to erect the blockade wards on your signal."

"What about the clean up afterwards?"

"Rookwood will be in charge. He's arranged to be free tonight to handle it personally, in fact. "

"Good. This place is entirely too convenient to have it linked to us."

And it was. A little nondescript third floor apartment with a basic kitchen, a single bedroom stocked with first aid supplies and the modest living room in which they now sat made for an excellent emergency bolt hole and rendezvous point.

Someone knocked on the door and Lucius rushed to open it.

In stepped a sallow long haired teen with an unfortunate beak of a nose carrying a small rucksack over his shoulders.

"Here he is my lord, Severus Snape." Lucius announced, unable to hide the relief in his voice.

Voldemort conjured the time between them in a billowing blue cloud with a wave of his hand.

"Cutting it a bit close Mr. Snape. Do you have the potions?"

"Yes, sir. I apologize for the wait but the mixture is very volatile and apparition does not agree with it." Severus replied, bowing in apology.

"No matter," the cloud dispersed in the breeze coming from the living room's only window "give them to Lucius then. He'll have to fly to his position."

Severus handed the rucksack over to Lucius "The vials must be shaken before being thrown and a sizable cloud will result from each smashed vial."

"Lucius, remind your team that your arms must be bared to the sky at all times. Do not fear the magic I will invoke; my mark will keep you safe."

Lucius nodded and hurried out of the apartment.

Voldemort turned once more to the young Snape "I'm told you want to join the ranks of my Death Eaters."

"Lucius suggested it and offered to vouch for me, sir. I've been considering it."

"You will accompany me then." Voldemort vanished his teacup and walked over to the window "Your part in this assault will establish your bona fides. I'm certain that tonight's demonstration will decide you."

Voldemort took his yew wand from his sleeve and, staring at the night sky, traced a rune in the air.

"Nef!" he intoned.

The wand's tip traced the rune in glowing green light. Upon completion, the glyph shrunk and slowly floated around Voldemort's wand handle. Clouds started gathering soon after, slowly forming or blowing in at a noticeable pace.

"The storm will need a few minutes to gather." Voldemort snapped the window shut after putting his wand away "Time enough for you to tell me about yourself, mister Snape".

It was Harry Potter's face that stared back from the window's reflection.

Harry woke up shaking, staring at a world devoid of color.

Night vision was damn useful, but the washed out scales of gray he saw at night really did a number on his head when he had nightmares like this last one.

He stood and padded out of his hollow to a small stream close by where he dunked his head into the ice cold water to wash the sleep from his eyes and drink as much water as he could stomach, just in case he decided to take Roran up on his offer.

Harry laid down beside the stream and pondered what his next move should be.

After last night's meet and greet with Roran and his men Harry had flown back to the site of the battle and gorged on horse meat. Only after biting down on a mail clad foot, did he pause and think over what had happened. He'd killed several people and was going through their remains for his dinner.

Try as he might, he couldn't feel bad about their deaths... they'd been burning down a village at the time and it wasn't like a dragon had many nonlethal options available.

And he'd eaten someone's foot.

It was appalling because he knew it was wrong; he was a human being! Still, he didn't gag. Meat was meat, as far as his body was concerned.

He separated the men from their horses as best he could and left them alone. It was something of a salve for his conscience at least.

On the flight back into the nearby mountains Harry wondered what it was that had changed him so. It could be that he was a dragon... transfiguration class in his sixth year was full of warnings about incompetent idiots trying to become animagi and turning permanently into animals. It could be that he'd used several unforgivable curses... was this what happened when a wizard used _real_ dark magic? Was it just the war that had left him like this? He'd torn off something's head with his bare hands before coming to this world after all...

Whatever the reason, he'd been tired and hungry and all that meat was just _there_.

Sleeping hadn't cleared anything up for Harry; he still didn't know why his Voldemort dreams were getting worse. He also had to give Roran an answer and he was finding it very hard to blow the human off, since Harry had genuinely liked Roran.

Here, nobody knew where or who he was. Nothing could hurt him as a dragon besides his own carelessness. The freedom he'd experienced in the months since his arrival was the most wonderful thing in his life. Was he willing to throw it all away into a war that, once again, was none of his concern?

If the ache already building in his wings was any indication, he didn't have much of a choice. Whatever brought him here was not to be dissuaded. With a forlorn sigh, Harry took to the air again.

_On the plus side_, _talking to someone again was nice, _He thought to himself. _And I still know next to nothing about being a dragon. Gotta look for the silver linings._

Once in the air, he noticed a shining light in the distance growing too fast and early to be dawn.

_Aw shit. These things are never good news._

Harry headed back to Roran's camp trying not to let his foreboding get the better of him.

Flying over Roran's camp, Harry could see that it was already waking up despite the early hour. He tucked his wings close and dove to the ground, only slowing down to land. He couldn't help chuckling when he realized that the soldiers on guard had only noticed him when he was almost upon them and were very startled by his arrival.

Beyond the soldier's modest camp, Alavir had taken some damage from the fires but it appeared that the fire brigades put together yesterday had stopped them before they reached the town proper.

Roran approached from one of the campfires where soldiers gathered to ward off the early morning chill.

"Good morning!" Roran said, "You could stand to give more of a warning when you swoop in, you know? My men are jittery enough as it is."

"They're nervous about me? They weren't overly concerned when you climbed on my back yesterday."

"Oh, they were plenty concerned. It's just that I try to recruit men intelligent enough not to argue with an angry dragon."

"I can't believe they're worried about a cranky dragon with that big a shit storm building up right outside the valley." Harry groused "Have you finished packing up? When are you leaving?"

"What do you mean?"

"Can't you see that?" Harry asked, pointing a talon at the faint glow visible in the sky above the hills.

"See what?" Roran turned to where Harry was pointing, "There's nothing there."

"I'd forgotten humans are almost blind. Get your wizard, I need to show you something."

Roran stared at the dragon for several moments, "I'm no expert on dragons, least of all talking ones, but you sound worried."

"I am." Harry replied.

"It scares me when a dragon bigger than your average barn is worried about something."

"That's downright sensible of you Roran," Harry said. "I also get scared when something bigger than me is worried. It's kept me alive."

"I'm going to get Carn." Roran mumbled, sure that the dragon was laughing at him.

Roran returned to Harry in short order, both Carn and Yarbog walking behind him.

"What's he here for?" Harry asked, nodding at the urgal.

"They're both my lieutenants. Whatever you show me, I'd tell them," Roran explained "It's easier to show us all together."

"I suppose I could..." Harry mused. "If you and your wizard can keep yourselves on my back, I could take the urgal up in my talons."

"Is it... really necessary for all three of us to fly anywhere?" Carn asked. "I'd very much rather keep my feet on the ground. Especially considering the kind of damage I healed on the captain's hands yesterday."

"That was... ah, more of a mistake on my part than anything else." Harry explained, trying to keep his tail from twitching in embarrassment.

Harry turned around and looked for the glow in the sky over the hills around the town. It was hard to make out from the ground but the dark of a new moon helped it stand out. _There's no way they can see anything from down here though, _Harry thought. _Not anything useful at least._

"I promise not to jar whoever decides to come up with me. We'll fly just high enough to let us see over the hills around the valley," Harry explained, "but at least Carn will have to come with me."

"I-Me? Why me?"

"I need your opinion on something I saw in the distance when I was flying in. There's a big light over in that direction and I don't have a clue as to what it is." Harry said, "I was hoping you could tell me if it was anything magical because it really doesn't look good."

"Why would you want Carn's opinion on anything, though?" Roran asked. "I'd have thought you to be fairly knowledgeable of magic, all things considered."

"Does your dragon friend know any magic?" Harry grumbled back, "Riders are powerful spell casters and she has a real one. Has she learned anything from him about magic?"

"Ah... not that I know of, no." Roran replied after thinking for a moment.

"Let's say that I'm unfamiliar with your particular brand of magic and leave it at that."

"Alright, fine. That still doesn't explain why you would want to take Carn up there to check this out, though. Could it not just be dawn?"

Harry growled, exasperated at the two humans' reticence, but Yarbog interrupted before he could snap back at them.

"Dawn's still a couple hours away Stronghammer. Besides, I'd like a look at this thing myself." He said. "Our shamans brought a couple artifacts along that could throw up a really big light. It could be that one of these has been activated."

"Would that be bad?" Carn asked.

"It would depend on the reason it was activated, I suppose. I can tell them apart, as Nar-Garzvogh had the shamans explain the signs of their magic to all marching leaders." Yarbog elaborated, "I wouldn't know why they'd be used out here in the middle of nowhere, though. We were told they were to be saved for the siege."

"I suppose there's nothing for it," Roran said, looking at Carn, "we'll have to take to the sky."

"B-but captain!"

"Don't worry Carn. I got the hang of it yesterday; I daresay you'll have an easier time of it than I because of your size. Hold on to me you'll be perfectly safe, as long as we have a smoother ride than I had myself." Roran said, giving Harry a pointed look.

"Straight up and straight down, no acrobatics on the way, I promise!" Harry said. "For Merlin's sake, it's not like I'm asking to eat you. I'm just trying to help!"

"Does that mean you'll help us against Galbartorix?" Roran asked eager to get an answer from the dragon.

"I... yes. Yes, I suppose I will." Harry sighed, "Can we get on with this? I'd like to figure this out sometime before breakfast."

"Excellent!" Roran said, not bothering to hide his grin.

Harry crouched and helped the two humans onto his back. Roran wedged himself in the same space he'd occupied previously while Carn sat between the spines just behind him. With some care the wizard could hold onto Roran's waist.

"Be careful not to let your arms slide too far up the bone," Roran said, "they taper off to an edge near the tip. That's what cut my hands."

Once Harry was certain his passengers would not tumble off his back midair, he turned to Yarbog and after a moment's thought, had him lift his arms and grasped him between his talons, being careful not to disembowel him. The urgal would be fine if he didn't squirm too much.

Despite all the fussing, the actual flight was very anticlimactic in Harry's opinion. Nobody fell and discounting a rather girlish yelp from Carn, nobody said much of anything until they'd cleared the hills and the glow in the distance was obvious against the night.

"It's gotten brighter from when I last saw it." Harry told everyone.

"It's magic alright." Carn said, "I don't rightly know what it is, but it's not natural."

"...and that means it has to be magic, is that it?" Harry asked.

"That's about it, yes. Plus, it's red. Blood red."

"Any idea what it could be?"

"Not a clue." Carn shrugged back.

"I was afraid you'd say that." Harry replied, "I'm going down then, hold on."

"Wait!" Roran yelled before Harry started his descent. "Can you see the army encampment anywhere? They should be almost straight east from us but I can't see them!"

Harry looked around as far as his superb draconic eyes could see.

To the north he could see tree covered hills about as tall as the ones that surrounded Alavir. The dense canopy made it impossible to see anything on the ground and if there was an actual road through the hills, it was not evident from their vantage point.

Turning south the ground evened out and the forest became sparse trees dotting a sea of tall grass he'd already looked over before meeting Roran and his party. Overall, there was no cover to be had from their position all the way to the disturbing red glow in the distance and he couldn't see any trace of Roran's army either.

Harry had never seen an army encampment from above (or anywhere, really) but he imagined that several thousand men bedding down for the night would be obvious even in the forest. Their fires would stand out, if nothing else.

"I'm sorry Roran; they're nowhere that I can see. Could they already be in the forest to the north?"

"No. Even at their best pace, they'd still be on the plains today." Roran replied.

"Where were they when you rode out this way?" Harry asked.

"Right over there." Carn answered, pointing at the red light on the horizon.

"Oh."

An uncomfortable silence followed. Without any comfort to give his human passengers, Harry decided that landing would be the more diplomatic option.

Once everybody was on the ground, Roran and Carn turned to Yarbog, who'd so far been silent.

"It's not one of ours." Yarbog said without preamble.

"How do you know?" Roran asked.

"None of what I was told involved a red light. Only the spirit housed in the great totem is powerful enough to produce an aura this big, but according to our shamans its light is golden."

Nobody was willing to voice the obvious conclusion.

"We have to go back." Roran said.

"And do what exactly?" Harry asked no one in particular "If it's a gruesome death you're after, I can work something out myself just fine".

"Whatever that thing is, it looks like a trap." Roran explained, pacing. "They'll need our help."

"I wouldn't call Shadeslayer helpless but having more people with authority on hand will help maintain order in the ranks." Yarbog said. "Who knows? If they already know how to handle this thing we may even get to help".

Harry couldn't hold back a dejected sigh as the three of them turned their intent gazes on Carn.

"Well, what about you?" Roran asked. "What do you think?"

The young wizard hemmed and hawed for a good few minutes before his companion's increasing annoyance pushed him to a straight answer.

"I don't want to go there... I know my limits and I study as much as I can; that's a great way to know for certain when something is out of my league." Carn explained. "_That _is so much bigger than anything I could do that just knowing it's there makes me nervous."

Harry took a big breath to add his own two cents to Carn's opinion.

"But!" Carn stopped him. "It's not like we have a choice in the matter. Most of the Varden's army is in that camp and if they're killed, it will be a long time before we can be a threat again."

"Look... I've been in situations like this before and very little saving actually happens when everything is said and done." Harry said, not bothering to hide his frustration "It's more likely that we'll end up being in the way and getting someone killed! Have we forgotten the part where it's a _trap_?"

"We'll have to take that chance." Roran said, resolute. Harry for his part was finding an uncomfortable mirror of himself in the human; sympathizing now with every person that had tried to stop his reckless escapades.

_Never thought I'd understand Snape. Ugh._

"What good will that do?" Harry asked Roran. "Thirty-something hungry, tired soldiers a two bit sorcerer and a Riderless dragon. That's some impressive cavalry, right there."

Harry glared at all three of his companions.

"If this is something Galbatorix cooked up you can be sure Murtagh and his little lizard will be there. We'd be even less help then."

"All the more reason to go help!" Roran exclaimed. "Plus, the riderless dragon is still a very big distraction, you know."

"Merlin's beard... give me a break." Harry muttered to himself.

"Eragon can barely handle Murtagh alone." Roran carried on. "He won't be able to fight him whatever that thing is on his own."

"FINE!" Harry growled, flopping onto the floor. "Fine. When you figure out how you want to get there, come get me."

Harry ignored everyone and everything for the rest of the morning. Seeing someone like Roran walk into almost certain doom on the off chance that he could help his cousin in spite of all sound advice to the contrary made him feel his friends' absence like nothing before had. He wished Hermione and Ron were here to help him despite knowing how smug they'd be.

The irony of his situation was not lost on him.

He eventually dozed off, trying to get some rest in between the vivid visions of Voldemort's past.

For their part, Roran and his men adjusted quickly to working around a massive pile of sulking dragon. The last few wounded were mended and everyone made ready to ride out, cleaning and packing their weapons under the watchful eyes of nervous villagers that crowded the edges of their little camp; too afraid to walk closer but curious enough to watch from a distance.

Roran, Yarbog and Carn spent most of the morning debating how they were going to get back to camp. Yarbog worried that Belatona would ride out on their heels and hit the Varden while they were dealing with Galbatorix's red magic. Carn thought that actually dispelling whatever the spell was would take time, even for someone of Eragon's power.

Roran heeded their concerns and decided that only he and Shruikan would be heading back to the Varden while the rest of the company would stay behind to provide a distraction in case the Imperials tried to hit them before the magic situation was resolved. His lieutenants were none too happy with the plan but could do little more than argue a direct order from their captain.

"Just what is it that you're hoping to accomplish, Captain?" Carn asked.

"I thought we'd already discussed that. We're going to do everything we can to help Eragon deal with...that." Roran replied, waving in the Varden's general direction.

"Not to be rude captain, but you're no wizard."

"Now that's an understatement," Yarbog guffawed. "I've seen newborn foals with more magic in a hoof than Stronghammer's got in his whole frame."

"Riding into camp sitting on Shruikan will make an impact on whoever is there." Roran growled back, "We'll take it from there."

"That's it? Stronghammer, have you seen the size of that pile of scales?" He asked, pointing at Harry, who despite being curled around himself still managed to provide some very decent shade.

"He's bigger than Saphira." Carn added before Roran could say anything.

"Exactly!" Yarbog yelled. "Let's forget about magic. Captain, there's no weapon made that you could swing and still hit something from that dragon's neck! What use would you be?"

"I already thought about that." Roran explained, "I'm taking our best bow and as many arrows as you can spare. A long spear as well."

"You can't hit the broadside of a barn on horseback and you want to shoot from a dragon?! You may as well spit at the traitor for all the good you'll do!"

"Enough!" Roran said, staring the urgal down. "You forget your place, Yarbog."

The urgal glared back but said nothing else.

Roran walked over to Harry and left his weapons next to the dragon.

"Carn, speak to the villagers and see if you can get me some leather." He said. "I'll need a saddle."

"Yes, sir!" The young wizard replied and hurried off to the village.

"I understand some of your men are able leatherworkers."

"Aye, Stronghammer." Yarbog replied stiffly.

"Bring some of them here, please. And see about those weapons we talked about."

The urgal nodded and went on his way.

"They've got a good point, you know." Harry said, once Carn and Yarbog had left them.

"What, is it your turn to pester me now?" Roran replied.

"I really should say something, seeing as to how you really can't order me around."

Harry uncurled and stretched out and let out an impressive yawn that sent any eavesdroppers scurrying back to town, for the time being. He knew that once those leatherworkers arrived he'd be poked and prodded until everyone was sure Roran could travel on him and still have functioning legs when he dismounted.

"I won't waste my breath though. You'd walk there if I didn't fly you there myself, so I'll help you on the condition that you're actually strapped on to me for the duration."

"You want me tied to your back? Why?"

"You don't know how to fly Roran, and I don't really know how to keep someone on my back for that matter. I didn't get the training for it."

"How did you manage to burn down half of Alagaesia with Galbatorix then?" Roran wondered.

"It was mostly Galbatorix's control. He was already trained when he kidnapped me." Harry answered, shaking his head to dispel Shruikan's memories of that time of his life. They tended to surge up and push to the forefront of his mind when he focused on them.

"The point is that if I don't tie you to me, I'll drop you to your death the moment we have to fight because I'm not used to your being on top of me."

"Oh... when you put it like that, it doesn't sound stupid at all."

What Harry didn't tell Roran was that having the human tied to his back guaranteed that he'd be able to fly away if the situation went from dangerous to suicidal whether Roran wanted to ditch the Varden or not.

Soon after the two grew quiet, Yarbog returned leading two urgals. They were the leatherworkers Roran had requested; who listened to his description of Eragon's first saddle and did their best to reproduce it. Some modifications were needed on account of Harry's bigger frame and more numerous spines but by the time Carn returned with the leather he'd managed to scrounge up in the village, the urgals had a good idea of what to do and, with Harry's permission, took every measurement they needed before heading back to their tents to make the saddle.

Yarbog then handed Roran a long bow with a full quiver and asked to be dismissed, saying that their camp still wasn't ready to move.

"He's angry about my orders." Roran mused, watching his lieutenant hurrying away.

"He's just worried about you, captain." Carn said. "I am too, you know? I just do a better job about not saying anything."

"I know... I don't like it either, but I don't see that there's much of a choice." Roran explained. "Eragon needs all the help he can get."

"I've been thinking about what you'll be facing and I have a couple ideas that could help."

"Go on." Roran said, not saying anything about the wizard's abrupt change of subject.

"First, you'll need some fire warding."

"Shruikan has a frost breath," Roran said, puzzled. "I thought fire wouldn't be an issue to be honest."

"And if he can hit Thorn's flame with his own, it won't be." Carn shrugged.

"You can both still be flamed though, and dragon flame is deadly. That's why I've put a warding spell on the crystal Shruikan left here last night. It'll keep fire from burning you while the energy in the crystal lasts."

"That's handy." Roran said, taking the crystal and admiring its faint red glow.

"I... don't really know the words to anchor it to your life force, like the spells Eragon's put on you before." Carn explained, sounding a little embarrassed. "You'll know when the spell's broken because the crystal will stop glowing. It'll probably break, from what Shruikan explained yesterday."

"I can't replenish it either!" Harry said, baffled. "I can't feel it anymore!"

"Hm... It seems that if a spell is put on a crystal, you lose control of its magic."

"Well, that's going to be a problem." Roran said, putting the crystal in a pocket. "How long will it last?"

"No idea," Carn shrugged back. "I'd suggest you try not to need it."

"Sure, maybe Murtagh's little lizard will choke on his fire." Harry chuckled.

"As long as Roran is riding you, you'll also be protected Shruikan." Carn told the dragon. "But since you're a lot bigger, it'll also burn through it a lot faster."

"Thanks, Carn." Roran said. "What's the other thing you mentioned?"

"Well, since arrow wards are standard fare for army wizards, I figured that Murtagh would also have one of those around himself and his dragon."

"That... is actually a good point." Roran stuttered. "So the bow's no good?"

"Not quite. Since crafting a ward to protect against 'arrows' is too specific to be useful -if someone threw a spear at you, you'd be out of protection- most protections are worded against steel tipped or metal tipped projectiles."

"I still don't see where this is going..."

"Just a minute." Carn said. "Shruikan, could you make crystals small enough to work as arrow tips?"

"Well..." Harry mumbled. "If you took off the steel points, I could breathe on the shafts. Like I told you yesterday, they tend to pile on whatever my breath hits so I think it could work. Someone would have to chip them into shape, though."

"See?" Carn turned to Roran. "With arrows like that you'll be able to get a few shots past Murtagh's wards before he figures out what's going on."

"Impressive Carn. We have some decent fletchers in our party too. I'll get people on it right away."

The next couple hours saw Roran's camp working at a feverish pace to prepare everything for their captain. The saddle was made and fitted onto Harry's back in spite of the leatherworker's nervous awe of the dragon and a party of excited soldiers handed Roran a quiver with fifteen ice tipped arrows, asking if they could speak with 'his' dragon about crafting or coating weapons with his ice once everybody was back in camp. Sadly, there was no spear to be had.

Finally everything was prepared. Roran climbed on Harry and bid Yarbog lead their company to their dropped supplies from the day before before posting guard at the way to Belatona. They were to follow after Roran and Harry if they received no word from camp in the next two nights.

In the event that the Imperials attacked before Yarbog heard back from Roran or the Varden, they were to do what they could to delay their advance before falling back to Feinster to report to King Orrin.

Harry simply wished everybody luck and handed Carn another charged crystal, left over from the day's work, to help their deception along.

The first leg of their journey passed mostly in silence.

Harry was still beating himself up for marching into someone else's war -again- and leading good people into bad situations _again, _no less. Pre combat anxiety was settling in (they were walking into a trap after all) and the feeling was not as familiar as it used to be. The months he'd spent alone in the mountains had let his mind rest and forget the rigors of conflict; Harry did not find reacquainting himself with the necessary mindset to be easy, or welcome.

Roran, for his part, found this situation a disturbing parallel to his frantic charge into Helgrind. Chasing after his loved ones was something that he'd been doing since this war began in earnest and he found it no easier now than he did when he left Carvahall.

_I rescued Katrina! _Roran told himself again and again. _If I saved my village alone and managed to rescue Katrina, I can keep Eragon alive._

About an hour into their flight Roran called for Harry to land.

"What is it?" Harry asked after Roran had untied himself from the saddle and dismounted.

"We dropped what was left of our supplies here before heading to Alavir." Roran explained as he cleared one of many small rock piles and dug under it.

"It's surprising that you'd make the time for food after you were so bent on leaving this morning." Harry said, craning his neck to look around as much as he could.

"I learnt a long time ago that going into battle hungry was a very bad idea," Roran said around a bite of jerky he'd fished out of a leather satchel, "I'm no good to anyone if I'm making stupid mistakes out of hunger."

Harry merely grunted an assent, still taking in their surroundings and trying to look into the red light in the distance now that it was closer to them.

"You think someone'll come out to meet us?" Roran asked.

"Out here? Not really." Harry said. "If we get jumped, it'll be once we're in their trap."

"Why so worried, then?"

"I mostly hunt at night." Harry explained, "My eyes and color make it a lot easier; I'm not used to being out and about in daylight."

"Can you make anything inside that thing yet?" Roran asked, choosing not to comment on his partner's discomfort.

"No." Harry shrugged, "A solid wall of red."

"I guess we'll find out when we get there, huh?" Roran said, dropping his empty satchel.

"Here's to hoping whatever's in there won't see us coming either." Harry growled before taking to the sky again.

Roran spent the rest of the trip to the edge of the dome explaining the layout of the camp to Harry.

Not counting the gap between the urgal and human camps, the Varden encampment was about a mile long and about half again as wide. When he left, there were no palisades or defensive structures to speak of, preferring to keep as mobile as possible so they could hit Belatona before the imperials mounted any significant resistance. Thorn's flames were a big threat; if Eragon couldn't drag him away for any reason, it'd be up to them to keep Murtagh and his dragon as far away from the camp as long as possible.

Roran also told Harry about Eragon's elven escort. If they managed to spot them and stay close to them, they'd help countering Murtagh's magic.

Magic was a big concern for Harry as well, since they didn't really have a counter for it. If _his _acted up, he'd be left human and unarmed against (at least) a dragon and a Rider-or worse. True to form though, he flew on until they reached the edges of the ominous red dome.

"Well, this is it." Roran said, "What are we waiting for?"

"Shouldn't we at least look around?" Harry asked back, "We don't know anything about the situation."

"We don't have time!" Roran replied, urging Harry forward with his feet "We're still five miles or so away from our base. This thing is too big to go around!"

_Yep. It's the Department of Mysteries all over again... _Harry thought with an explosive sigh.

"Brace yourself then. I'm going in."

Harry launched himself into the dome with a powerful beat of his wings.

The moment Roran cleared the red barrier a sudden migraine exploded behind his eyes. In a matter of seconds he was unconscious and only the strap that tied him to Harry kept him from plummeting to the ground.

Harry tried to back wing outside when he heard Roran's pained groan but his own momentum had already carried him into the dome and he slammed into the now solid barrier.

"Roran! What's wrong?!" Harry roared, feeling the human's limp body slapping against his chest with every beat of his wings. "Wake up, damn you!"

Crashing into the barrier fouled Harry's flying and forced him into an awkward landing that almost crushed Roran. Once he was back on the ground, Harry realized that Roran was actually thrashing as if in a seizure and had become tangled in the straps tying him to the saddle. It was only a matter of time before he broke something or managed to choke himself to death.

Harry cut the leather harness around his chest with a claw, dropping Roran to the ground - saddle and all. Untangling the thrashing human was impossible without doing some serious harm with his talons, so he settled for setting Roran on his back and carefully holding him in place with a paw; hoping that whatever afflicted him would run its course and leave the human alive.

"This went south much faster than usual..." Harry mumbled to himself, looking at the scenery around him.

Everything inside the dome was tinted a dull red, as if a dirty lampshade had been thrown around the sun. The Varden encampment was now obvious in the distance as well as the two dragons circling the burning tents above it. Harry deduced that the blue one was Roran's friend. The other one he identified by the onslaught of hatred that rose in his gut like so much bile. Shruikan's memories knew Thorn well, even if Harry did not.

The two dragons fought each other without much regard for what was under them; about half the camp was already on fire and the dry grass of the plains could fuel a brushfire that would swallow whatever was left. Still, Roran's cousin seemed to be doing a good job of herding Thorn away from the few tents still standing and the Urgal's side of things.

Harry curled around Roran's thrashing form as much as he could, flattening his body and spreading wings low to the ground. With some luck and the place's odd lighting they'd pass unnoticed until Roran recovered and they could decide what to do.

_They seem to be doing well enough for now, anyway._

**Varden Main Encampment**

**That same day, early morning**

Eragon hummed absently at a patch of small wildflowers growing behind his tent. Even in the dim early dawn light it was obvious to the watching dragon that the small plants grew lusher and small buds flowered in time to Eragon's quiet song.

"_You should be sleeping, Eragon."_ Saphira chided him.

"Can't." Eragon replied around a tired sigh. "Roran's message has me too worried to sleep... I can't help but feel that whatever Murtagh's been planning is about to hit."

"_All the more reason for you to go to sleep._" Shapira said, nuzzling him. "_We've been out flying for no good reason all night. We both need our rest."_

Eragon chose not to rehash the same argument they'd been having for the past three days and went into the tent.

Since this strange attack started, he'd been in charge of humoring and handling both Lady Nasuada and commander Jörmundur. It seemed a better option than restraining them until a cure could be found and even more so when it became apparent that the attacks of irrational rage were spreading to the rest of the army. It was a tiring, frustrating affair to oversee the release of those wizards in the Du Vrangr Gata who had the mental fortitude to throw off the curse over the camp as well as enlisting the aid of the urgal shamans to try and find a counter spell for this attack while stalling his irate superiors.

He'd actually run out of plausible excuses to stay put yesterday afternoon. Then Horin's report came in and that provided enough of a reason for Nasuada to dig her heels in and agree to stay and fortify, even if it had him flying all over the plains looking for Murtagh for the rest of the night. Still, Eragon couldn't help the foreboding unease that roiled in his gut as he rolled in his cot trying to sleep.

The storm was about to break and he didn't have a plan.

According to Zagrok, the leader of the urgal shamans, this had all the markings of a spirit based curse such as their people were wont to use against each other, but there'd been urgal scouts looking for a ritual site for the casting of the curse in the bush around them almost from day one with no success thus far.

Horin's report made him think that Murtagh had actually cast his curse from much farther away than the old shaman suspected. Before setting out on his extended patrol Eragon had run back to his tent and traced a possible perimeter around camp based on where Horin said to have seen Murtagh and despaired when he realized their estimates had been off by miles. He then asked Blödhgarm to send a couple elves out into the wild to spread the urgent news, but the furred elf was none too pleased at the request.

"Too little, too late Shadeslayer. We should close ranks and try to weather the attack at this point." he'd said then.

Eventually Arya caught wind of their argument and chipped in her agreement with the elven wizard. In the end it took a good half hour of arguing with them to have two of the twelve elves in his escort to play courier and even then both elves were very cross with him. Although his reasoning was sound, even Arya thought that his safety was more important than half the Varden army. Including its leaders!

"She's fought with the Varden for decades and she gets angry with me for trying to save them..." Eragon grumbled to himself.

"_Don't hate them for speaking the truth Eragon." _Saphira's voice crooned in his mind "_It's a harsh truth, yes, but if we die there, will be no one left with the power to kill Galbatorix._"

"_I really could have done without the reminder Saphira. I know, alright? I know._" Eragon replied "_That's no reason to leave thousands of people to their fates if we can do something to help. We owe the Varden our fealty._"

"_I agree Eragon! If I didn't, I'd already have dragged you out of here. That would stink of cowardice though, and it is very much beneath us both._" she admonished. Eragon heard her angry snort outside his tent.

"_But!_" She rejoined to quiet Eragon's chuckles inside "_You have to be aware of the risks Eragon. Just so you don't do anything stupid."_

"Hey!" was Eragon's indignant answer.

He saw Saphira's shadow uncurl itself outside and she stuck her head inside his tent.

"_You do have a history of taking unnecessary risks if it means helping others, little one. We're all worried you'll stay to fight a losing battle and pay for it with your life._"

"You also think this is hopeless." Eragon accused, rolling onto his back to look Saphira in the eye.

"_Not hopeless, no. Just difficult._" Saphira said "_Our odds are much better now than they were against Durza for one thing. Zagrok knows how to handle this; we just need to hold on until the scouts find what he's looking for._"

"And Arya knows I can't fight Murtagh without the elves to back me up." Eragon added, sounding like the dejected teenager he was.

Saphira said nothing. Harsh truths, indeed.

Eragon sighed and rolled over to look at the spot where he'd been growing flowers the past couple of days.

"Will she ever take me seriously?"

Saphira looked at her forlorn Rider and followed his eyes to the patch of wildflowers behind the canvas, putting two and two together.

"_Is that what the singing is about? What do flowers have to do with anything?_" she asked, puzzled.

"It's something humans do… elves too, I suppose. When I had to run back to the Varden after Helgrind, I grew a flower for her." Eragon explained "Things happened and she chose not to keep it but I think she liked the idea, at least."

Eragon reached for his leggings and fished a couple acorns from a pouch on his belt.

"I'm practicing so that when we return to Ellesmera I can build something impressive enough for her to stop doubting me." he finished, showing Saphira the seeds.

"_Eragon..._"

Saphira couldn't help recalling an embarrassing episode of her own with Master Glaedr that seemed very much like Eragon's situation.

"_From what I've heard, it's not your skills or your race that she objects to. It's your _age_... and that's something only she can-"_

An urgal's hurried clopping outside interrupted Saphira.

"Shadeslayer!" cried the panting warrior.

Eragon put away the acorns and donned his gear while Saphira ushered the warrior inside the tent.

"We're under attack." the urgal said.

Eragon donned his chainmail in silence, pondering their preparations.

When he'd first spoken to Zagrok about their situation the urgal explained that if they were attacked by a spirit, his people would be ready.

'The magic of the _Urgralgra_ is the magic of spirits' he'd said, 'We've attacked and defended each other with the spirits of this land and our own ancestors for thousands of years and no human has ever touched this power without becoming a Shade or dying in the process.'

They agreed it was very unlikely that Galbatorix would attack them this way.

After an entire day of searching and diagnosing their leaders, the Du Vrangr Gata could find no curse or magical effect to dispel, alienating them from the army even more than they already were. Moreover, the same despondent rage spread to other people over time, forcing them to consider that Galbatorix could have cast a spirit curse on their leaders.

Two days later Zagrok had determined that, while effective, their traditional protections against spirits were not permanent and only marginally useful when invoked to guard humans. With his earlier bravado silenced by the scope of the Emperor's curse, the urgal could only explain the circumstances to Eragon and hope he came up with something resembling a plan.

"_There's three parts to a spirit curse, Firesword. First, there must be a fetter for the spirit,_

_an object that will tie the spirit to the physical realm and serve as a conduit for all the power fed to it._

_If this is destroyed, the backlash will disperse the spirit."_

"Any word on the scouts? Has the ritual site been found?" Eragon asked as he fastened Brisingr to his belt.

"The scouts haven't returned yet." the urgal courier replied.

"No then," Eragon sighed.

"_The rite master must channel energy into the spirit's fetter so it can carry out its task: The greater the task, the more energy the rite master must channel into the fetter._

_If the rite master is killed before enough energy has been gathered, the spirit will retreat when its energy is spent."_

Eragon could still hear the wizened shaman's rasping voice explaining this particular aspect of the curse. The truth of their situation sat in his gut like a stone; Galbatorix hadn't left his tower in the better part of a century, leaving only one other person capable of working magic on this scale against them.

Killing his brother was not an option... Not when he'd given him a real chance to break free from Galbatorix's control, he only needed time to make good on it.

"_Arya! Have Invidia and Laufin reached the mark?" _Eragon shouted out to Arya's mind.

"_Not yet. They report a faint shimmer though... some sort of magical barrier; it's going upwards as well." _replied a faint echo of the elven princess in his mind.

"_Lastly, a curse, any curse, needs a target. This is both the reason behind the curse and its weakest point because it is not under the caster's control. _

_If the curse targets specific people, there are ways to protect or hide them; if the curse is cast on a place, it can be warded or the rite's target boundaries can be destroyed. _

_By their very nature spirits will not linger in the same place for long and when given a way out of their imprisonment, they will invariably take it."_

"How did our preparations go?" Eragon asked, picking up his saddle and leading the way outside.

"We completed thirty warding talismans." The urgal said.

"That only arms half our people." Eragon frowned back at him.

"It couldn't be helped Shadeslayer. Zagrok ordered our shamans to conserve their strength as much as possible in case we were directly attacked." the courier explained, not quite able to meet Eragon's gaze. "Volunteers were also... erm, hard to come by as well. Sir."

Eragon grunted back, belting the saddle onto Saphira.

"See them off then. Leave the rest in camp and have them assist Zagrok as best they can."

Eragon tightened all the straps, tested them, and mounted his dragon with a graceful leap.

"Check back with Zagrok. We'll need about half an hour to get as many people back as we can before they release their own spirit. I'll bring back Lady Nasuada and the Commander myself."

The urgal gave the mounted Rider a stiff salute and hurried back to his camp.

"_Will it be enough, little one?_" Saphira asked, once the urgal was out of earshot.

"It will have to be Saphira." Eragon replied out loud.

Wafting columns of black smoke already rose to the sky from the human half of their encampment and the breeze carried the din of combat. The red shimmer Arya mentioned now stood out against the clear morning sky and he could see a definite red tint to the light of dawn at their backs.

"_Let's go see what we're dealing with_" Eragon said as Saphira took to the sky.

**Healing Tents, Varden Main Encampment**

**Dawn**

"Wake up! Come on you blasted human! Up, up, up!" Urbog roared Horin awake from the tent's entrance.

"Huzzawha?" Horin mumbled to himself, rolling out of bed and shaking himself awake. "Wha's goin' on?"

"We're under attack, you dolt!" Trianna growled from her place at the tent's trestle table where she was fiddling with some trinket or other and a dagger in her hand.

"What?!" Horin scrambled to put his gear on. Urbog was standing guard at the tent's entrance wielding his own sword and looked very imposing.

"The hell's that on you, Urbog?" Horin wondered aloud, staring at his friend with his boots half hanging from his feet.

The short urgal's body was criss crossed by small pictograms drawn in glowing white paint all over his arms, going into his armor up to his chest. A ghostly urgal warrior in full ceremonial garb -feathered headdress, warpaint faint but clear in his face and a huge spear and engraved shield superimposed over Urbog's own bloodied weapons- surrounded his whole body like a halo and moved in harmony with him when the urgal turned to look at the awed human.

"Elder Brother, this is Horin, one of the humans in my company."

The spectre leveled a piercing stare at Horin and growled something at him in his native tongue that the human didn't understand. Its disdain, however, was impossible to miss.

Urbog snorted in agreement.

"I know he doesn't look very impressive right now brother, but he's actually quite capable most of the time. He just needs to Get. Moving!"

Horin shook his head clear of the stupor and hurried into his clothes. Urbog nodded at him and stood guard at entrance again.

"Care to elaborate?" He asked Trianna while donning his weapons.

"Which part?" was the sorceress' sardonic reply.

"The part more likely to get us killed."

"The spirit's made its move." Trianna explained around a muffled bang from the table. "Most of the camp is going mad and attacking anything that moves."

"And why am I only finding this out now?"

"You slept through their two attempts into the tent," She explained after making a shallow cut on her right hand and smearing the blood on whatever she was working on. "But they're getting rowdier out there and it won't be long before it's not just ones and twos trying to make it in here."

Urbog came back inside dragging two corpses and dropped them beside the entrance.

"Are we ready to go?" he asked.

"Just about." Trianna replied.

"Did you have to kill the unarmed one?" Horin grumbled at the urgal.

"Not my work." He shrugged back. "They were fighting when I stepped outside and he was already gutted. Didn't stop him from jumping me right along his friend when he noticed me, though."

"Enough chit chat." Trianna interrupted, donning a short sword herself. "I'm done here and we really need to be out there."

"No real easy way to get to Command," Urbog said. "The supply train is scattered all over the place and what little space is left is overrun with humans fighting each other."

"Shouldn't be terribly difficult to just walk past them then." Horin suggested, walking up to Urbog.

"Did you forget the part where I said these two jumped me as soon as they saw me?" he said.

"Oh."

"Let me do the thinking." Trianna said, stepping outside and waving a weird fetish over her head. "You handle the grunt work and we'll be just fine."

Horin surmised that the thin intertwined branches braided with Urgal hair and dripping blood were the fetish Eragon mentioned yesterday. It did not look helpful (or magical, come to think of it).

"That thing work?" he asked, following her outside.

"It should keep you safe up to five feet away from me." She explained. "If we meet anyone not too far gone, a little time under this thing's protection should leave them sane enough to follow."

She dripped a little blood from the end of the branches onto her left hand and motioned Horin to lean closer. She carefully painted a small sigil on each their foreheads and warned them not to smudge it.

"That should give us a few minutes' worth of protection in case you get knocked away or I drop the charm."

"How long will that be?"

"It heats up as it works." Urbog added, pushing him from behind. "When it stops hurting, you're out of time."

"How would you know?" the human asked skeptically.

"It works the same as our magic. It _is _our magic." The urgal explained. "If manifesting my brother stops burning, I'll know he's out of power."

Horin turned a dubious glance Trianna's way.

"Yes, it hurts. Yes, it will get worse as this spirit grows stronger." She walked around them both and headed to the back of the tent. "Follow me and keep an eye out."

"Where are we headed?" Horin asked. "Shouldn't we be looking for people to rescue?"

"My orders are to get to Lady Nasuada and Commander Jörmundur, retrieve them and reach the Urgal defenses by any means necessary."

Swords in hand Trianna, Urbog and Horin set a quick pace through the winding little roads between the tents; the early hour meant not many soldiers were out and about yet. However, the din of battle was growing steadily louder and the smoke grew thicker. About halfway through the back roads of the camp, passing through yet another group of tents clustered around a fire, a score soldiers stormed out of them; swords high and blood in their eyes.

The first and fastest of them, actually wearing half his armor, caught Urbog flat footed and the urgal was forced to take an awkward back step to dodge the soldier's frenzied lunge. Urbog's hurt ankle flared up from the bad footing and the pain sent the urgal down on a knee. The possessed soldier, still retaining some of his fighting skills, slammed Urbog across the muzzle with his sword pommel, dropping him on his back.

"_Jierda!" _Trianna cried from behind, just as the soldier was about to run Urbog through.

The soldier's knee pulverized with a loud crunch and the man toppled to the side. Urbog took the opportunity to catch the soldier on his sword arm, pushing his blade under the man's leathers into his gut. The urgal rolled over and pushed the convulsing soldier off his sword as he stood back up.

It was bedlam around the little fire. A good many of the soldiers were in their underclothes wielding short daggers or nothing at all; those that weren't, wore only half their armor and a short sword.

They were also fighting each other, for the most part.

Horin was holding back a man with a dagger on his left and Trianna had just killed an unarmed man who'd rushed her behind him.

In the time it took Urbog to check his injured ankle to see if he could put weight on it, Trianna closed in behind the soldier facing Horin and swung at his neck. The sword got stuck in the bone, but the man went down.

"What the hell?!" Horin cried, surprised.

"You have to kill them." Trianna grunted as she dislodged her sword and swung again to chop the man's head off. "If they're this far gone, there's no helping them."

"How the fuck would you know?" Horin yelled back. "You said we needed to-"

Horin noticed something moving on the ground from the corner of his eye and turned to see the wounded soldier Urbog had dropped to the side had rolled over and reclaimed his weapon.

"Urbog! Watch out!" he cried, stepping around the urgal and stabbing his own sword down to stop a sweep that would have cut his friend's leg off. Urbog planted his uninjured foot firmly in the ground and delivered a brutal kick to the man's chin that left his face looking backwards.

The sudden, stabbing pain in his injured ankle made the urgal flinch and drop to his hands and knees, cursing a blue streak.

"Damn it all, Urbog! Don't _do _shit like this!" Trianna yelled.

"I'll spit at the next one instead." Urbog groaned back.

"We don't have time for this..." the sorceress hissed. "Stretch that leg out, quickly!"

Urbog rolled onto his back and sat up, presenting his injured hoof.

"Sheesh woman!" Horin cut in. "Cut him some slack, will ya? We're fine."

Trianna gingerly stabbed the short bloodied fetish into the ground so it could remain upright before releasing it. The mark on her forehead burnt with a dull ache as soon as she let go of the fetish; Horin's frown and the faint red glow on his own forehead meant his was burning as well.

"The hell?!" Horin started.

"Can you hear that, you dim witted grunt?" Trianna spat as she kneeled before Urbog.

The group grew quiet and the din of battle around them became obvious. It was all around them.

"Everybody is waking up. Every second we waste means dozens more soldiers stand between us and our goal." Trianna growled. "We're also on a time limit: if we are not inside the urgal camp when their defenses come up, we won't be getting in!"

"How long before that?" Horin asked, his earlier levity quite forgotten.

"We agreed on half an hour's time to get both the Commander and Lady Nasuada and run for the urgals." Trianna explained as she inspected Urbog's ankle. "We assumed we'd be able to run through the center despite the supply train being parked there but..."

"The soldiers were out and about almost as soon as we became aware of the attack." Urbog finished for her. "How does it look?"

"Yesterday's was just a patch job; it's worn off by now. I'll numb it as much as I can but you're going to have to tough it out."

Urbog nodded and laid down to let her work.

"We can't keep going like this." Horin said. "If we stay around the tents, we're just going to be mobbed."

"There are not many more direct routes to Command." Urbog pointed out.

"I think we shouldn't head straight there. If we run from here to the outer palisade we could step outside and go around camp to the corridor between us and the urgals." Horin explained. "There's a clear path to the back of Nasuada's Command Post from there; I used it yesterday. It's a longer walk but it'll go faster than pushing our way through a mob."

A brief yellow light from Trianna's hands, stark against their red surroundings, startled Horin into silence as the sorceress stood and picked the fetish back up. Neither of them could hold back a relieved sigh when the sigil on their foreheads stopped burning.

"Can we really just walk out of the palisade?" Trianna asked dubiously.

"Pfft, course we can." Horin said. "Tis a piss poor job, that. Someone must have had it set up 'cause the army wasn't doing much more than sit'n complain."

"Alright then." Trianna said, lending a hand for Urbog to stand up. "We've got a plan. Let's get to it, we don't have much time."

A lone soldier stumbled out of the farthest tent before Trianna and her party left. He was half naked like most of the others, but didn't seem to be paying them any particular attention; he walked -when he managed to take a step- with his back to them, as if running from something.

The man jerked, stumbling against something invisible, and fell hard on his back. He crab walked back in panic for several feet, dragging his left hand over the red coals of the little camp's fire without a twitch. He was pretty close to the spellbound group before he managed to stand back up. Two steps later he was convulsing on the ground, screaming in silence.

"Come on!" screamed Horin, breaking out of his stupor. "It hasn't taken him yet!"

"Horin, wait!" cried Trianna, following behind him.

Fear lent the sorceress enough speed to catch Horin before he reached the downed soldier. She yanked the scout close and turned him around.

"Five feet" she growled.

"He needs help!"

"And we're taking it to him. You don't need to run off like an idiot!" she spat. "Stay close."

Trianna walked to the writhing man on the floor, Horin and Urbog following close behind when the soldier's arm snapped up, palm out and steady even when the rest of his body shook, and stopped the sorceress cold. The fetish in her hand grew hotter as she pushed against the man, whose hand slowly charred against the edge of the protective bubble around her.

Despite her stepping closer, the man did not pop inside the shield. His back kept bending as Trianna pushed forward until the sickening crack of broken bone made the sorceress blanch and stop. She also noticed the fetish draining her power so fast her hand was beginning to hurt.

Trianna backpedaled quickly but the man's torso lurched forward to keep in contact with the invisible bubble protecting the sorceress and her companions. His legs twisted and turned under him, apart from the rest of his body and pushed the rest of him upright. The soldier's body twitched spasmodically, as if a puppeteer was getting a feel for its strings, but he was pushing back in earnest now and Trianna tripped in her frantic retreat.

Horin raised his sword and stepped between Trianna and the possessed soldier but she stopped him before he could engage.

"Don't!" she panted, "It could... take you too!"

Horin grunted his agreement and stayed inside the protective barrier. He took careful aim and with a strong, two handed swipe of his sword, cut off the man's hand. Amidst the spray of blood the outline of a red glowing hand protruded from the man's stump which he pushed forward with an awkward twitching gait, shrinking the bubble until a pained groan from Trianna and the resulting visible flare in the barrier stopped him; inches from Horin's dumbstruck face.

"You're the last one from yesterday, aren't you?" The thing said in a very familiar rasping voice. "It is odd that you are alive. Until you came along, only those adept with magic had a chance at surviving me."

The spirit traced idle patterns on the barrier with his finger, making Trianna moan in pain every time he pushed forward.

Horin stepped back to Trianna and helped the sorceress to her feet. "If you've got any bright ideas, now's the time to use them."

"We have to get out of here." she replied, leaning heavily against him, "Keeping the barrier up is draining me dry as it is."

"It seems you're not as defenseless as the Emperor thought you would be." The spirit mused to itself, "No matter, we can't leave this prison and none of you will last the day; I'll just have to hunt down these little bubbles on my-"

A glowing white urgal rushed through the two humans and hit the possessed soldier with a brutal flying tackle, dragging a glowing red figure out the soldier's back and away from the trapped Varden. The man fell dead where he stood.

"Follow me!" Urbog ordered from behind, "My brother's spirit will keep that thing busy for as long as possible, but we have to move!"

Horin and Trianna followed behind the limping urgal. A few steps ahead, however, Trianna stumbled again and all three had to stop. A quick look at the woman told Horin and Urbog that she wouldn't be able to hold the shield up and run: her arm trembled with fatigue and her hand hadn't stopped dribbling blood around the fetish.

Horin remembered how Trianna activated the grotesque little thing when they first left the healing tent and decided to act on a hunch. He made a cut on his left palm and wrapped his bleeding palm around Trianna's. After a moment, he had to make an effort to keep his arm up, as if the twigs that made up the fetish were lead instead of wood.

"Better?" he asked her.

"Yes, thank you." She replied with evident relief, "It will grow heavier as time passes. Probably hotter too, please don't let go."

"No ma'am. What about you Urbog? Are you alright? I see your... war paint... is gone."

"Since my brother left me to do battle, the bindings that tied him to me are gone as well." Urbog explained, "I am fine Horin, although without my brother I no longer have a protection against the spirit's possession. I will stay close to you from now on."

"How long can your brother keep that thing away, you think?" Horin asked as they resumed their trek.

"Long enough, I hope." Urbog replied, looking worried. "That spirit drains energy faster than anything I have ever seen. I'll know when brother retreats."

"It's a good thing there's several bubbles. Plus, he didn't seem to have figured out where we were going." Trianna said.

"That's cold." Horin admonished her.

"But practical." Trianna returned, "We need to be behind stronger wards before he turns his attention back on us."

They hurried along in silence for a few minutes before Urbog spoke up again.

"He?"

"Its voice sounded male." Trianna shrugged.

Eragon found that flying in the red dome encasing the encampment was a very uncomfortable experience. There was no visibility outside and the smoke from the growing fires on the ground was making what little he could see around him difficult to make out.

Saphira grumbling about air currents wasn't helping matters any, either.

He should have fetched Jörmundur already but he'd been stuck playing eye in the sky for the little rescue bubbles that were struggling amidst the bedlam of camp. The plan seemed to be working fine for the first few minutes of the attack but the small protective bubbles were being shrunk and their casters killed by the possessed soldiers for reasons he couldn't understand; the fetishes that had worked so well one moment had become death traps the next, turning Eragon's sporadic assistance en route to the commander's tent into a frenzied swooping race to save as many mages as he could.

"_Little one..._" Saphira called out to Eragon. "_We can't afford to stay here anymore. We won't make the rendezvous at this rate." _

"_They'll be hunted down if we don't clear a path for them!_"

"_Trust that they can look after themselves._" Saphira admonished, already heading for their first objective. "_You put this plan together yourself and you have to see it through._"

They hadn't quite made it to the commander's tent before they spied him leading a small group of armed soldiers cutting a bloody swath through the mindless possessed.

"What the hell..." Eragon mumbled to himself.

"_He seems to be somewhat sane...if bloodthirsty._"

Saphira hovered close to the action to assess the situation. Engaging the soldiers in melee to single out Jörmundur would be awkward, as he was in the middle of his small company and they were all so close to each other that the possibility of harming him was very real if Saphira simply cleared the way to him with her talons.

"_Can you get rid of the soldiers?_" Saphira asked.

"_The wording would be tricky,_" Eragon mused. "_The commander and his men are dressed alike, are doing almost the same thing and I didn't think to ask what military ranks are called in the ancient tongue when I was with master Oromis._"

Jörmundur however, spotted them and alerted his men to their presence while Eragon thought on the wording of his spell. Before too long the majority of the commander's company had disengaged from the milling madmen and rained arrows on the Rider and his dragon.

"It's the Emperor and his beast!" the old man cried. "Bring them down!"

Blue light flared whenever Eragon's shields deflected an arrow and concentrated fire prompted Saphira to fly out of range of the soldiers. She could see the commander guide his men to keep her in sight as much as the poor light and smoke allowed.

"_Have you come up with anything yet, Eragon? We don't have much time and we can't afford to waste our wards here._" she said.

"_I've got something. Fly closer and get ready to grab him!_"

Saphira angled her wings down and dove at the cluster of soldiers that was the commander's small company.

"_Away from Jormundur!_" He intoned when he could make out Jörmundur directing his men to aim at the diving dragon.

An invisible wave of force blasted from the man at Eragon's command, throwing everything violently away from him. The soldiers flew several feet away and the ground sunk a couple feet under him in a cloud of dust.

Blinded by the effects of the spell Saphira aborted her dive and landed in the hole. A couple flaps of her wings cleared the air and she could make out the commander just getting back on his feet. He was naked, his armor imbedded in the ground around him and the remains of his clothes fluttering on the wind.

Saphira rushed forward and grabbed the man before he could get his bearings. She took off towards Nasuada's tent and the second part of their mission, trying to keep the struggling man from gutting himself on her talons as she flew. A word from Eragon put the man to sleep and allowed the dragon to carry him more comfortably.

"_Certainly not your best work, but it got the job done, I suppose._"

"_It wasn't as clean as I would have liked._" Eragon grumbled back. "_Arya is sure to have something to say about this when she gets back_".

"_No word from the elves yet? About the ritual site?_"

"_None, but they're fast. If it's out there, it has to be close to the barrier. It won't be long now... I hope._"

"_It better not be... we'll need them if Murtagh shows up._"

Not long after that, they reached Lady Nasuada's tent. It was surprisingly calm, given the circumstances.

The mess with the supply wagons in the middle of camp had created a bottleneck that a couple Nighthawks could easily defend from the possessed mob. The rest of her detail was posted around the back and sides of the tent, but aside from the small pile of corpses off to the side of the road to the tent, it seemed that no one else had shown up yet.

While Saphira back winged to land on the narrow approach to the tent, Eragon could make out Trianna, Horin and their urgal companion talking with one of the guards. Their conversation stopped when Saphira dropped the commander before them so she could stand.

Eragon dismounted and walked over to the group, with Saphira carefully stepping over the unconscious Jörmundur to listen in on their conversation.

"What's wrong?" Eragon asked without preamble. "You should already be set for pickup!"

"You're one to talk," Trianna glared back. "You're late!"

"That is to say, we ran into some trouble on the way here ourselves." Urbog corrected.

"Why is the Commander naked?" Horin asked, staring at the man under Saphira.

The question brought everyone up short and Eragon used the distraction to address the guard, studiously ignoring Horin and trying, through sheer willpower, to convince everyone else that the chortling dragon beside him was actually a fearsome beast and not a disrespectful, traitorous lizard. He wasn't certain they were convinced.

"What's been going on here?"

The guard managed to stop staring at the Commander but traded that for a bewildered stare at the Rider. "We... uh... lucked out actually."

"Any day now, soldier." Eragon growled. "We have all the time in the world."

"Er... right. Sorry, sir." The soldier smartened up. "As I was saying, we lucked out. When the possessed attacked, the ones close to command went running for the supply train and made that mess you see out there." He pointed at the wreck two of his companions guarded.

"That kept most of them mad men away and no one came from anywhere else but these three, until now. We dispatched the ones left on this side of the wreckage when they decided to come up to the tent." He pointed to the small pile of half-naked corpses Eragon had noticed earlier.

"All in all, we've had an easy time of it with the crazies. From the sound of it, it's getting bad out there."

"Their oaths to Nasuada are strict and powerful enough to keep their minds safe from attack unless they were insidiously attacked, like Lady Nasuada was." Trianna explained.

"Aye." The soldier agreed.

"Has the plan not been explained?" Eragon asked. "If anyone could drag Lady Nasuada out here to take her to safety that ought to have been the Nighthawks."

"We've explained the plan alright," Horin said. "It's just that they won't do anything about it!"

"Like I've been telling you for the past fifteen minutes," the soldier growled back at Horin. "It isn't that we don't want to, we _can't_!"

"Likely story..." Horin spat.

The elite guard took Eragon a few feet aside to be able to converse privately with him.

"The sorceress has the right of it, Shadeslayer." he whispered. "Our oaths are too powerful to allow us to do harm to Lady Nasuada, even for her own good, and if we hear her order us to do something, we _have _to do it.

"Come to think of it, you're in the same boat." He added. "As I understand it, you're under oath yourself."

"I doubt it's anything as... limiting as your vows," Eragon replied, troubled by the information he'd received. "But I've never thought to test the actual limits of the vow I gave Nasuada. I can't be certain."

"At any rate, it's been a right pain in the ass to keep her cooped up; we lucked out with the quiet around the tent." the soldier explained. "We've been feeding her a story about malcontents and mutiny... nothing too far from the truth, and that you were taking care of it."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"She ordered two of us to go looking for you and they haven't returned yet. In the meantime we've been doing some fast talking so she doesn't step outside, but it's only going to last for so long before she outright orders us out with her to go put down-"

"_Eragon,_" Saphira interrupted in Eragon's mind. "_Someone is coming from the tent._"

Eragon shushed the soldier and together they turned back to the tent in time to see Lady Nasuada stride out, sweep aside the guards at the door and make a beeline for Saphira and himself.

The leader of the Varden was dressed for battle. She wore fine polished chainmail with matching greaves and gauntlets, a short sword at her hip and a shield on her back emblazoned with the Varden coat of arms. Eragon thought she cut an inspiring enough figure; the contrast between her dark skin and her painstakingly polished armor was certainly eye catching and the force of her personality did the rest but... She wasn't her father. She was a very good leader, no question about that, and a superb politician but she was not the gifted strategist Ajihad used to be.

After the siege of Feinster, Eragon often worried about the Varden's ability to change from an established guerrilla force into a standing army. Ajihad had made the Varden thrive in spite of determined Imperial opposition and many of the older members, from the Commander down to the rank and file, agreed that only he could turn the Varden into an army Galbatorix should fear.

Nasuada had cemented very important alliances and mustered very impressive numbers all around, but all the good will she'd earned from that, as well as her victories at the Burning Fields and Feinster, would be for naught if they were decimated here. Before they could worry about that though, they had to make it out of here alive.

"Get her back inside!" the Nighthawk beside him whispered just before Nasuada reached them.

"Eragon!" She called. "Have the deserters been contained?"

Eragon for his part noticed her quick cursory glance to Horin and Urbog before dismissing them. Trianna's state -pale and panting with blood dripping from where her left hand clutched both the Urgal fetish and Horin's hand- drew a speculative frown from the possessed woman and Eragon decided to remove her from the vicinity for as long as it took him to secure Nasuada. She didn't trust the Du Vrangr Gata while she was lucid; the last thing he needed now was for her to order him to put Trianna down.

"For the most part, my lady." He replied. "There were some we could not apprehend or kill; they fled to the south. I think I know where they're headed; if you'd lend me a map, we could plan a swift counter strike and put this thing down by tonight."

Eragon tried not to show how Nasuada's silent scrutiny unnerved him. While he thought he used to be good liar, his time with the elves in Ellesméra had left him uncomfortable with falsehood. He'd had to do some quick learning once he was put in charge of the viper's nest that was the Du Vrangr Gata but he was still unsure of his ability to tell a bald faced lie convincingly to someone's face -and whether or not his being good at it would hurt his nonexistent relationship with Arya-.

After a long, tense silence, Nasuada finally nodded.

"We shall adjourn to my tent, then." She said.

Nasuada turned to Trianna's tired party, prompting Eragon to step between them before something dangerous could be said.

"Trianna, you're not looking well. Why don't you go take a breather off by the road?" He said, pointing her to a path on the far side of the small clearing around the tent that led to the Urgal camp. They could escape faster that way if the possessed horde decided to ignore the supply train and just climbed over it.

Eragon could also barely make out Jormundur, passed out under Saphira and shielded from Nasuada by all of Trianna's party. He had to lead Nasuada away before they could move.

Eragon weathered his leader's heated stare and did not balk. At length, Nasuada huffed in displeasure and headed back into her tent at a brisk pace, both the Rider and his as yet unnamed Nighthawk companion trailing behind her.

Inside the tent the remaining members of the Nighthawks stood guard around a long trestle table where Nasuada unrolled a map of the surrounding area. Eragon set about describing the night's events with much hand waiving and references to the map; he was only half aware of what he was saying, taking surreptitious glances to the surrounding guards. They were tense, waiting for something to happen, and Eragon worried that he'd end up having to fight the entire guard to take Nasuada back to the Urgal camp and the defenses they had prepared.

No matter the circumstances behind it, such an action would set a terrible precedent.

When their discussion was dying down and Nasuada seemed ready to start issuing orders Eragon noticed the guard immediately behind Nasuada take a careful step forward and ever so slowly unsheathe a dirk from his belt. Eragon barely stopped himself from shoving Nasuada out of the way when he saw the guard turn his blade around to strike with the pommel, but he wasn't subtle enough not to be noticed.

Nasuada was turning around and unsheathing her sword when the guard hit her. He dropped to the ground immediately, like a puppet whose strings were cut. Nasuada stumbled drunkenly a couple steps before falling unconscious on the table, a pool of blood quickly growing from her head.

"Shit!" cursed the man who had come in with Eragon. "Help me get her down, will you?"

Shaking off his surprise, Eragon helped the soldier pick Nasuada up and stretch her out on the floor.

"Can you heal her?" the man asked, the tightness in his voice belying his worry for his liege.

Eragon inspected the wound in silence. The hit had been strong and had made a noticeable wound but it wasn't so serious as to have broken bone. The most basic healing incantation, albeit with more power behind it than usual, healed her and a quieter whispered word ensured she wouldn't wake for some time. The man's sigh of relief was loud enough to be heard and the lingering tension in the room dissipated in its wake.

"Just what is going on here?" Eragon asked the room in general.

"Come now Shadeslayer, I know the sorcerers fancy themselves subtle but they're not spies;" the soldier beside him replied. "We knew you were planning something almost as soon as you started your preparations."

Eragon said nothing back, but irritation shone out his eyes.

"I assume whatever it is you're doing contemplates getting Lady Nasuada back to normal and keeping her safe."

"Keeping her safe is my first priority, yes."

"Well then," the man said, cheerfully. "Let's get going!"

"As soon as you tell me what this was all about." Eragon glared back without moving.

The soldier turned around to see his fellow Nighthawks stretching out their fallen comrade, laying his weapons beside him and putting the rest of his armor on. Eragon could make out the others whispering farewells as they paid their respects to what he now realized was a dead man.

"Just as our oaths kept us safe from whatever ails Lady Nasuada, so do they prevent us from doing her harm."

A raised eyebrow made Eragon's opinion about that statement very clear.

"We die if we hurt her Shadeslayer." The Nighthawk explained. "It was the best compromise Lady Nasuada could think of between allowing us to help her in case she became a danger to herself and ensuring our loyalty."

Eragon thought that willingly accepting such an oath was the height of fanaticism but wisely kept his opinion to himself.

"Why go through all this rigmarole then?" He asked, annoyed.

"Until just recently, Lady Nasuada ordered us to stay close to her at all times, so we could never speak to you in private." The soldier shrugged. "We weren't about to hand her over to any random sorcerer that came along; we were waiting for _you_."

"Far enough…" Eragon replied.

"Besides, this way we're all saved the hassle of having to fight over her because we couldn't let you take her if she didn't want to be taken."

Eragon nodded his understanding.

"What now?" he asked.

"As it happens," he continued, somewhat smug. "If ever the Lady is incapable of stating her wishes as to her own safety and there are no standing orders regarding the matter, her safety and welfare become the sole responsibility of the captain of the Nighthawks."

"That would be you?" Eragon asked wryly.

"Indeed," The soldier saluted. "My name is Sandor."

"It was an impressive plan, given your limitations," Eragon conceded, sparing a sad glance at the dead Nighthawk. "Even if it feels… wasteful."

The effect in the room was instantaneous. Every Nighthawk leveled hard glares at him and more than one hand reached for a sword.

"Marik volunteered." Sandor growled. "That he could die in the service of his liege was the highest honor he could aspire to."

Both Eragon and the captain stood up slowly, facing each other over Nasuada's unconscious form. The rider was very aware of every glare aimed at him in the room and while he hadn't seen the Nighthawks in action, he'd heard enough rumors to worry that they could be a problem if they all came at him as a group.

"You could stand to take such an example to heart." Sandor sniped at him.

Eragon grit his teeth, pressed his fist so tight he could feel the mesh in his gauntlets bend and desperately groped for all the reasons why it would be a very bad idea to behead the man before him.

His many allegiances to the races of Alagaësia were a sore topic for him; that Nasuada did not bother to keep whatever misgivings she had to herself only made her doubts sting worse. Trying to make compromises that satisfied all three parties was difficult enough on its own without having to deal with blatant mistrust from any side.

In the end, the Rider swallowed his words, kept his sword sheathed and kept his composure. It was a close thing though.

Eragon opted to pick Nasuada up in silence.

"We have to get moving," he said once he had her in his arms. "I've arranged adequate defenses with Nar'Garzvogh and his shamans but we need to be there before they're raised if they're to be any good to our leaders."

"Now, wait a minute." Sandor growled. "I'm not letting you go anywhere without an oath of silence. If we wanted the particulars of our company to be common knowledge, we'd have done all this outside!"

"Now really isn't the time captain!" Eragon bit out. "If we don't-"

Just then a massive explosion rocked the camp and several things happened.

"DRAGON! DRAGON ATTACK!" the sentries outside cried.


	6. Here there be Dragons

Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling _et ál_. The Inheritance Cycle is the property of Christopher Paolini _et ál_. No copyright infringement is intended with this work. No profit is being made from its publishing either. This is merely written for entertainment.

Eragon was hit with a wave of revulsion so great from Saphira, it was all he could do not to drop her charge and retch.

The Nighthawks surged forward and stopped beside Eragon, undecided about charging the enemy outside or keeping watch over the unconscious Varden leader.

In the end it was the ominous flapping of great leather wings that had them all running outside, barely escaping the towering inferno Thorn left in his wake.

When everybody managed to get back on their feet outside and looked around, Eragon realized several things: The supply train and Nasuada's tent were destroyed (the Commander's tent as well, judging from the direction of the first explosion); Saphira was already running to him and Thorn was turning around to make another pass.

"Change of plans." he said, shoving Nasuada at the still shell shocked Sandor. "Take her, Jörmundur and everybody still sane. Run for the Urgal camp. Don't stop for anything!"

Saphira reached them in time to cover the retreating Nighthawks with her own fire. The glare of the clashing flames showed Murtagh astride his dragon in stark relief against the dark red surroundings. He was casting a spell at the fleeing soldiers.

Eragon turned around halfway up Saphira's saddle and saw Sandor stumble and fall to his knees. The man obviously had some manner of magical protection Murtagh had not expected because Eragon still felt his life. It wouldn't matter much if Thorn torched him after he passed beyond Saphira's range.

Simply throwing a protection against fire would not save Sandor and Nasuada. Murtagh would notice the fire going around the shield and would cast again, likely faster than Eragon could counter. He had to become a greater threat and protect Sandor at the same time.

"_Eragon! No!_" Saphira cried when she realized what he was about to do.

A snarled incantation snapped Thorn's wings down and yanked the dragon to the ground. The move was jarring enough that Thorn's flame landed behind Sandor; the man was probably burnt anyway but with Murtagh's concentration also shot, he managed to stand back up and run after the others.

Murtagh, however, rallied quickly managed to break his brother's binding before crashing. He cast something, pointing his sword at the retreating figures down the path and flew up, turning around in the air to face the still grounded Eragon.

Eragon was dumbfounded. Murtagh hadn't attacked.

Casting a spell at a third party when another magic user was around was inviting disaster; Murtagh could have –should have- gotten in his head and at the very least made life very miserable for him… and yet he didn't. Nothing beyond a murderous glare over his shoulder.

Thorn's tail was also back. It was a ghastly thing; naked muscle over pale bone growing out the stump left behind after Glaedr bit the original off at the base, but it was functional.

Eragon woke from his stupor when Saphira dove aside to dodge Thorn's grasping talons. He was almost thrown off when Saphira reared to avoid the smaller dragon's lashing tail on his way back up.

The red dragon flapped furiously for a second and after making a very tight turn, faced Saphira again before Eragon was properly saddled.

_The little bastard moves too fast. _Saphira said. _I'll try to get us some space. Watch Murtagh!_

Thorn flamed them coming down. Saphira let the powerful torrent splash against their wards and pushed through it, rearing to grapple with the smaller dragon. Eragon swung at Murtagh over the dragons' thrashing necks and the clash of the two star metal blades was almost musical.

"Stop this madness brother!" Eragon cried.

His brother did not respond. His face was locked in a rictus of concentration and Eragon realized that even now, when Murtagh was facing only him, there hadn't been any sort of mental attack.

Eragon blocked his brother's riposte and dove into his mind in earnest, surprised to find little resistance. Murtagh's mind was a cacophony of voices, a jumble of ideas and great presences swirling madly without clear direction. Eragon couldn't find any trace of the mind he'd tangled with before in order to disable him. A brief spark, a moment of familiarity amidst the madness was all the warning he got before the presences floating in Murtagh's head galvanized into action and cast Eragon from his brother's mind.

Eragon's attack had been deflected in less than a second, letting him unhook his left foot from the saddle and hang on the right side of Saphira's neck to avoid Thorn's jaws. Saphira took the opportunity to land a savage bite on the other dragon's neck, causing his shields to flare a blinding red around her fangs.

Thorn pulled back before the larger dragon could drain his protections to the breaking point, pushing himself away with his hind talons and back winging to get some space. He recovered in a matter of moments, rolling and positioning his wings to regain altitude before he crashed on the ground.

Eragon righted himself as Saphira strained to follow Thorn's agile climb and stay on top of him. Eragon's vantage point let him see Murtagh shake himself out of a daze before refocusing on him.

"_Vindr!_" Murtagh cried, pointing at Eragon.

A massive pressure crashed down on Eragon's shields, draining them at an alarming rate.

"_Blödhgarm!_" Eragon cried out mentally to the leader of his guard even as he thought of a counter spell.

"_Kasvaa vindr!_" cried Eragon, countering his brother's air compression spell by commanding the air around him to expand. The drain on his wards stopped but he could feel Murtagh pouring a staggering amount of power into his spell; so much power that he feared he'd need to tap into the power stored in his belt even with the elves' help. He'd rather keep that to fuel his wards, as they were taking serious hits with the kind of magic his brother was throwing around.

Eragon felt the force pressing down on him stutter for a moment and he took the chance to direct a surge of magic into his own spell to overpower Murtagh's. The moment the constriction broke, Eragon saw the backlash daze his brother.

"_Go!_" Eragon said, directing Saphira to attack Thorn while he cast a binding on the other dragon's wings.

Saphira's dive was fast enough to clip Thorn's wards, causing a flare that was lost in the red after images his wings left with every flap; a sign of the binding spell that also bore down on his protections. Saphira used her fire to keep Thorn under her as she regained altitude, guessing that the smaller dragon would be unwilling to put more strain on his defenses.

Eragon ended his magical attack the moment he felt Murtagh's power resist his own, but he still saw his brother become disoriented by his casting.

"_He's become more powerful still_" Blödgharm said in Eragon's mind, sounding worried.

"_It's not the same as before,_" Eragon replied, "_His mind's a mess and it's difficult for him to focus. He's confused after every spell he casts. If I hadn't seen him inside own his head, I'd think him a Shade_".

"_He must be holding the curse._" Arya interrupted suddenly.

"_I won't kill my brother if I don't have to!_" Eragon snarled back. "_Has the altar been found?_"

"_Invidia found it._" Arya said.

"_See about destroying it, then. Eragon and I can keep Murtagh and his _lizard_ busy._" Saphira said, her disdain for Thorn evident in her thoughts.

"_She's already tried. The red barrier is impervious to physical attacks and if it is attacked with magic, it will redistribute its power to strengthen the affected areas._" Arya explained, "_While Invidia could detect the resulting weakness, it is insignificant given the total area of the barrier._

_She couldn't affect anything outside the barrier either."_

"_We'd have to attack it in several places at the same time,_" Blödhgarm mused, "_and we don't have the numbers or the means."_

"_I'll need directions to the altar. I need to go in the opposite direction." _Eragon said. "_I'll herd Murtagh away from camp as I go to minimize casualties."_

"_It's not a concern any more, Eragon" Blödhgarm said. "The possessed headed towards the urgal camp some time ago. We need to stop this as fast as possible."_

Eragon knew Blödhgarm was right. If he took too long to dispel the curse, the possessed Varden would throw themselves on urgal blades until they were all dead or they broke through. That would break the Varden as sure as Nasuada's death. His brother had ordered his horde after her when he saw Sandor flee. Now he needed only wait.

It didn't matter that Murtagh seemed unable to attack with his mind at the moment, he had power to burn and Eragon knew that if they kept throwing magic at each other, he'd eventually lose.

That didn't take into account some of the attacks he'd seen on the mages earlier. Some part of the curse could drain a sorcerer in moments and even if Zagrok's defenses were strong, they wouldn't last forever under that sort of attack.

"_Follow me as close as you can. Stay in range." _Eragon ordered the two elves linked to his mind. "_Tell Invidia to be ready; I'll think of something."_

Roran's twitching had subsided on its own without causing any visible harm to the human. Keeping him down had been a more difficult task than Harry might have expected between not squishing him by mistake and keeping very sharp talons away from the little body between them.

Roran's condition afforded Harry the benefit of watching the confrontation between Roran's cousin and Murtagh without being noticed, and he had the uncomfortable realization that he was, once again, quite out of his league. The situation was reminiscent of Dumbledore's fight with Voldemort in his fifth year; two titans of magic duking it out where he could only feel the aftershocks of the terrible magic they unleashed. Only now they were riding dragons and it looked like their mounts also knew their way around a fight.

Harry needed to take stock of their situation before Roran was back on his feet. He could feel the waves of magic coming from the fighting Riders even from afar, and he knew that he wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of those spells.

Thorn would also be a formidable opponent, as he was smaller and faster than Harry. He would probably fly circles around Harry like Harry himself used to do around Crabbe and Goyle. Harry had the advantage in strength but he didn't think grappling with Thorn like he'd seen the blue dragon do would end up very well for him; he didn't have the female's skill in melee combat.

Harry's musings were interrupted by a pained groan from Roran. The human was confused but otherwise calm. He tried to stand up but stopped when he felt Harry's talon pinning him down.

"What happened? Where… am I?" Roran asked no one in particular.

He could focus on his surroundings after a few more seconds lying down and he threw a glare at the massive dragon.

"Finally decided to eat me?"

"Hardly." Harry rumbled back, the sound seeming to surround Roran with Shruikan's neck curled around him as it was. "Are you yourself? Are you injured?"

Roran wriggled all his fingers and toes.

"I'm alright, I think." He said.

Harry lifted his paw off Roran and the man stumbled to his feet, holding onto the dragon for support for a moment before he regained his balance. Harry couldn't believe he was about to willingly bear this man, pale and tired as he was (and a muggle no less!) into battle.

"Something tried to get into my head." Roran said. "Thanks for keeping me in one piece."

Harry stood up and folded his wings.

"Not a problem." He replied. "I assume you still intend to help your cousin."

"Of course." Roran said, his resolve unchanged.

Harry himself could not deny the urge to charge after Thorn. The myriad aches that had pushed him south disappeared under the tide of rage he'd felt when he saw the smaller dragon. He felt better now than he had since first awakening in this world and resisting the lust for battle in favor of his companion was a real effort.

Harry crouched low so Roran could climb back onto his saddle.

"I had to cut you loose when you lost consciousness." Harry explained, "You'll need to keep yourself on my back because I probably won't have the chance of catching you if you fall."

"I'll manage." Roran replied.

"We can't cross the barrier from this side. Once we engage Murtagh, we won't be able to retreat until the It comes down."

Suddenly, a pillar of golden light split the red murk over the Urgal lines. It expanded with an unearthly screech, taking the shape of a massive eagle that covered the whole Urgal camp under its brilliant wingspan. After a few moments, the image of the eagle faded and left behind a smaller golden dome whose edges wobbled under the pressure of the curse around it.

"There is the magic Yarbog spoke of." Roran said, awestruck by the great feat of magic. "Things must be going really bad if they had to do something this big."

"I'll hit him from above. Try to freeze one of his wings too." Harry shrugged, "We'll only get the one chance. After that, we'll have to stay out of their way until your cousin brings them down."

"Rather simple plan, don't you think?"

"Less things that can go wrong with a plan like that." Harry chuckled. "We need to go, time's wasting."

Neither of them brought up the issue of magic. Harry couldn't use it as a dragon (and wouldn't be able to use it even as a human for lack of a wand). Roran knew whatever protections Eragon had put on him would not stand up to someone of Murtagh's caliber for long. They'd both have to make do with what they had and hope for the best.

Harry flew straight up until he reached the top of the barrier and followed the curve of the dome in the direction he'd seen Roran's cousin fly. The red gloom reduced his visibility but he thought the sound of their battle would carry a long ways.

Before long Harry and Roran started hearing the roars of fighting dragons below them. At Roran's nod, Harry folded his wings and plummeted towards the fight.

For once in his life luck was with Harry and he came up to Thorn and Saphira from behind the smaller dragon as they circled each other. Saphira however, froze when she saw the black dragon appear behind Thorn and her opponent took the opportunity to charge. Both dragons went down in a snarling tangle of scales and flaring wards.

Harry edged his dive downwards to follow the falling Riders, snarling cursing himself for a fool all the way.

"Get him away from her!" He heard Roran yell into the wind.

_Easier said than done, _Harry groused to himself. His earlier plan to tackle Thorn and snap the little bastard's wings off was no longer an option, much to his regret. Harry couldn't just freeze the lot of them either, as Roran would probably not appreciate his cousin preserved for posterity in such a manner.

Harry flapped furiously until he was abreast of the dragons, but he couldn't make a grab for Thorn with Saphira in between them. Fortunately for him, Thorn started in surprise upon seeing another dragon, letting Saphira grab onto his shields and swing him around against Harry.

Thorn's shields absorbed the collision with only a red flare to show for it, but Harry felt his chest bruise from the hit as he fell with the smaller dragon. Harry held Thorn's back close to his chest, taking advantage of his greater size to savagely drive his talons into the shields that protecting the red dragon; the wards were strong enough to stop the attack but faded away after that. The sharp bone on Thorn's thrashing tail drew a long bleeding wound on Harry's underside, but the animagus thought it a good trade.

Harry saw a couple arrows hit Thorn around the joint of his right wing. He tried, despite his awkward position, to land a bite on the other dragon's neck, but Thorn leaned forward to force Harry to overextend. This gave Murtagh room to lean under Harry's head and swing at his neck with Zar'roc. Harry aborted his strike as soon as he saw the Rider lean back in his saddle and this saved him from having his throat slit.

"_Thrysta!_" Harry heard Murtagh yell before a powerful banishing propelled him away from Thorn, his grip on the smaller dragon being loose from his deflected attack. Harry spat his freezing breath at Thorn as he flew away, but the other dragon was already expecting such a move and twisting away. Harry only struck Thorn's hind legs.

Saphira tackled Thorn from above leading with her talons, tearing long gashes in the membrane of his left wing and throwing him back to the ground and breaking pieces frozen flesh off Thorn with the collision. Harry overloaded the crystals left inside Thorn's thighs, tearing a pained roar from the falling dragon. Then, instead of following their plummeting foes, Saphira turned and headed for Roran and Harry.

"Keep him busy!" Eragon shouted at them. "I'll deal with the barrier!" Without another word, Eragon and Saphira also headed to the ground.

"What the hell?" Harry mumbled at Roran in the sudden lull. "We had him on the run! He ought to have followed him!"

"It's no use Shruikan!" Roran replied. "Eragon doesn't want to kill Murtagh and until he does, he's more of a liability if he hesitates at the wrong time."

"Well, what are we supposed to do? Yell at them?!" Harry asked back, "I'm not wearing any shields, you know."

"Don't let him get too close then." Roran shrugged, "Look alive Shruikan, here they come!" He said, pointing at the incoming Rider behind Harry.

Harry turned his head around and saw Thorn flying low, heading for Saphira. The wounds on his wing were healed and he appeared unbothered by the gaping, frostbitten holes in his hind legs. His movement didn't waver and Harry couldn't see any blood trailing from the wounds.

"Holy shit…" Harry swore. "That's some powerful healing magic."

"Go!" Roran cried, urging Harry on with his feet.

Harry dove at Thorn, aiming to intercept them before they reached Eragon. Murtagh, unwilling to wait until he closed the distance, waved his sword at his brother and shot a giant fireball at him. Thorn, noticing Roran and Harry's dive, turned his head up and spat a torrent of fire at them.

The first attack connected with a deafening explosion and Roran could only hope his cousin's shields had held.

Harry dodged up, barely evading the stream of fire headed his way, only to slam headfirst into a wall of compressed air cast by Murtagh as Thorn passed under them. Harry scrambled to maintain his altitude and shake off the dizzying crash, spitting a freezing cone at the retreating figure in the hopes of distracting him from his target.

On the very edge of his breath's range, a few crystals formed around an invisible new shield protecting Thorn and his Rider. Seeing this, Harry overloaded these, as well as the ones in the arrows embedded in Thorn's wings, causing them all to explode. The ones on his shields did so with enough force to throw him off course while the ones around his wing blew out the joint, forcing him to the ground again.

Harry sped after them, aiming to get between Thorn and Saphira before Murtagh could get his dragon back into the fight.

_This guy is packing a lot of power… _Harry thought. _He healed the wounds on his dragon and threw up a shield against my breath weapon in very little time._

Harry knew enough about the local kind of magic from Shruikan's memories to be scared of such prowess.

Eragon had to cast a powerful healing spell on Saphira coming out of that last explosion.

Murtagh's fireball had bust through what was left of their fire wards and hit her along the back; it was a testament to her training and resilience that she only wobbled for a moment before recovering.

"_He's casting faster." _Saphira commented; her voice sounding relieved after the blue glow of Eragon's magic had healed the burns on her back.

"_He must be getting used to the amount of power he brought," _Eragon thought back grimly. "_And he's still on your tail; we won't be able to land."_

Suddenly Eragon saw a white mist reach Murtagh and Thorn from behind. The explosion that followed sent their pursuers reeling to the ground, giving them some respite.

"_What happened?!" _Saphira asked, unwilling to lose speed to look behind her. _"Up or down Eragon?"_

"_That other Rider did something, Thorn's grounded for now!" _Eragon replied, allowing himself the elation he'd fought down when he first saw the black beast barreling down on Murtagh and himself. _"Land! I have an idea. With any luck, we'll have this curse broken before Zagrok's shamans run out of energy."_

"_Murtagh will be on us before too long." _Saphira warned.

"_He's outnumbered!" _Eragon replied, sounding happier than he'd been since Glaedr and Oromis died. _"The black Rider will keep him off of us."_

"_I doubt he's outclassed though." _Saphira grumbled. _"Where do you think this dragon came from? Why didn't he approach us sooner?"_

"_You know I don't have any answers." _Eragon replied. _"Besides, now isn't really the time for questions."_

Eragon directed Saphira to land close to the edge of the barrier and dismounted. He shook the acorns out of their pouch into his hand and sat on the ground.

Saphira eyed Eragon and the disturbed soil curiously.

"_Just what is it you're trying to do?" _She asked.

"_I've seen spirits do wondrous things. They can use their power to warp nature and life with an ease that would be very difficult to match." _Eragon explained, thinking of a rose made of living gold.

"_I don't know how to attack a magic construct of this sort. I don't have the time to figure out how to dismantle it and I don't know how to drain its power, but I've been given a crash course in spirit magic by the best shaman we have. _

"_I'm hoping to ask the spirit Zagrok has already summoned to help me change this acorn, so that the tree that grows from it feeds on magic. I'll then sing it to life with elven magic and make it big enough to weaken the barrier and allow Invidia to cast a spell across it."_

"_That seems a rather… foolish hope." _Arya said in their shared mind link.

"_Desperate, I'd say." _Eragon replied wryly. _"Summoning them is the hard part though, and we have a great spirit already here."_

"_I've also seen spirits Eragon." _Arya admonished, "_Talking to them isn't exactly easy either"_

"_It took an entire Urgal tribe and that huge totem they were lugging with them to summon that thing that protects their camp. It takes the entire dwarven nation to summon the spirit that crowns their kings." _Eragon snapped back. "_Both spirits seem of a similar nature to me and Guntera talked to Orik just fine."_

"…_and how do you propose to talk to the Urgal eagle?" _Arya asked, her disdain for anything related to the dwarven religion ringing across their bond.

"_I'll throw my mind at it and see what happens." _Eragon replied.

"_You can't be serious!" _

"_Focus!" _Saphira snarled at everyone, annoyed at the pointless discussion.

Eragon opened his eyes to see Murtagh in the distance, flying at them. The black dragon and its Rider landed a ways from Eragon and Saphira, shielding them. Eragon was relieved to see his earlier hunch proven right.

"_Indeed, Murtagh is coming again." _Eragon explained for the benefit of those who could not see.

"_What about your safety then?" _Blödhgarm asked, _"How long will this plan of yours take?"_

"_As I said before, the black Rider will distract my brother." _Eragon said. _"You and your people will help him do it."_

"_What?!" _the elf roared back.

"_You heard me." _Eragon ordered, _"We all know a lone Rider can't stand against him. Arya can stay on me to buy time in case you need to change targets back to me."_

The elves decided to forego any further discussion in the face of renewed battle, but Eragon could feel both their minds seething.

"I know it'd be better if you helped against Thorn but…" Eragon hedged, looking at Saphira for a moment.

"_I'd rather you didn't stay completely defenseless" _Saphira replied privately, her voice reassuring Eragon. _"We don't know what will happen and I want to stay close in case you need me."_

Eragon's shoulders sagged with relief. He could send the elves away but he could never feel comfortable going into battle now without Saphira with him. He closed his eyes again and probed the distant Urgal camp with his mind, looking for the spirit inside the totem pole.

Harry had a problem and he knew it.

He and Roran were waiting for Murtagh to return to the fight and they had nothing to throw at him.

"He's coming back covered in wards, you know." Roran said, echoing Harry's thoughts.

Harry rumbled his agreement. "It was a good thing you thought to shoot his wing when you had the chance."

"I was aiming for Murtagh." Roran grumbled.

"Oh…" Harry hedged. "Well… you hit something good at least."

"We'll have to keep him off Eragon as long as possible." Roran added.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"He said he'd deal with the barrier, not that he'd do it quickly."

"I meant, why didn't he go after Murtagh? We could have killed him!"

"I told you, Eragon won't kill his brother." Roran said.

"That's his problem," Harry snarled. "It doesn't change that both Murtagh and his dragon really need killing."

Harry really felt that, too. The binding Shruikan's dying wish placed on him only forced Harry to kill Galbatorix and act to that end, but the dead dragon had more than enough hate to spare for Thorn and his Rider. The sheer contempt Shruikan had for those that would choose a life of bound servitude when they could take an honorable death that would also deal a crippling blow to their captors earned Murtagh and Thorn a very high place in Shruikan's to kill list.

Harry could understand Murtagh's probable feelings on the matter. Despite his need to help others, Harry was by no means suicidal; letting Voldemort kill him without putting up a fight had been the hardest thing he'd ever done.

Harry also empathized with Murtagh's circumstances, having spent all his life bound to a fate he couldn't fight and pushed along by forces greater than himself. He even understood Eragon's need to help his family; Harry himself had always yearned for one, but even without the pain to help it along, Shruikan's hate for Thorn and Murtagh could be so overwhelming that Harry didn't know if he'd be able to help himself, had he the chance to kill either of them.

Perhaps it was for the best Eragon didn't pursue Thorn earlier, but now they'd wasted the element of surprise. Never again would they meet Murtagh unprepared for Harry's particular brand of attacks and they didn't have anything solid to fall back on.

"Oh I agree with you. I may understand my cousin's feelings, but I think it's too dangerous to leave that brother of his flying around." Roran said, "Not much I can do about it now though. I had my chance and blew it."

"We still need to do something for your cousin's protection."

"There isn't much we can do." Roran said. "It's frustrating to sit on all your power and be unable to use it like Eragon does. How do dragons endure it?!"

Harry's response stuck in his throat. It wasn't that he couldn't use his magic; it was more that he was afraid of what it'd do. Transforming into a dragon had almost killed him; learning to live with so much magic churning in his gut, ready to do whatever he wanted was even worse. A stray thought let him speak as a dragon! A little focused desire and it was a done deal.

His magic was _there _ready as ever to help him, he just didn't have anything to cast with. Right now it was only good for changing himself (probably), and turning human now would only kill him faster.

_Roran's right. This is fucking unfair! _Harry growled at himself. He could see Thorn closing in, he'd reach them quickly. _Holly and phoenix feather… it never let me down. Right now I'd even welcome Ron's old busted wand, not that I could use it, being a dragon and all._

Thoughts of that old thing and how much trouble it gave Ron with his casting, made him realize something. It didn't work well (the wand was broken after all) but all Ron had needed to do to cast anything was to _try_. Lockhart had gotten a spell off of that thing too, come to think of it.

_Unicorn hair, phoenix feather and dragon heartstrings, _Harry thought, recalling the cores Ollivander had told him he used for his wands so long ago._ It won't hurt anything to try at this point._

Thorn was barreling down on them, headed straight for Eragon regardless of Roran and Harry standing in the way. Roran shot an arrow at him when they were in range and missed. Harry concentrated on his magic, thinking back to the first task of the Triwizard tournament, when he'd first tried what he was about to do.

_If this works, I'll be pissing off a dragon again. _Harry thought wryly.

Thorn approached them and neither the dragon nor its Rider spared Roran and Harry a glance, trusting in their wards too much or just dismissing them as a threat; either worked for Harry just fine.

"_Accio Thorn!" _Harry cried when his target was above him, pointing a claw at them.

For a moment, it felt as if Harry's entire limb was pressed into a huge vice. Then his magic surged inside him and exploded out his outstretched claw, leaving behind a bone deep ache. Harry didn't have time to appreciate the pain before his summoning charm crashed against Thorn and he felt his arm almost pulled out of its socket.

Thorn was only slowed at first, two flaps of his wings carrying him only halfway to Eragon and Saphira. Murtagh tried a spell to break a binding without success, as Harry grit his teeth and pumped more magic into the charm, tugging on it fiercely. The resistance on the other end disappeared suddenly and Thorn was coming towards Harry.

Thorn leaned hard to the left and tucked his wings close to himself, to keep from breaking his tail or his wings upon crashing. Murtagh turned in his saddle and Harry heard him cry "_Grajzla!" _hurling a fireball straight at his face.

They were too close for Harry to dodge and the fireball crashed into him. Carn's ward protected him from the initial blast, but the fire washed over him blinding and burning. Harry snarled a flame freezing charm and the resulting squeeze all over his body was only marginally better than the burn, but at least Roran would be safe. Harry scrambled backwards blindly, hearing Thorn crash where he'd been standing while he tried to blink the spots away from his eyes.

"Shruikan watch out!" Roran cried above him.

Harry recoiled at Roran's warning and Thorn's claws caught him across his muzzle instead of tearing his eyes out. Harry tried to back further away but Murtagh cast a binding that stopped him in his tracks. Thorn stalked forward and lunged at Harry's paralyzed neck, ready to tear his throat out, when he was paralyzed too.

"Those damn elves again!" Murtagh growled.

Murtagh snarled a spell and the binding on Thorn broke. Somewhere behind him, Harry heard someone cry out in pain. Thorn regained movement at the same time, but couldn't keep his balance and stumbled, his bite falling short of its target. When Murtagh dispelled the bind on Thorn, his focus on the one he cast on Harry waned and the animagus cast a powerful blasting curse at the red dragon.

Harry's magic built in his talon in a powerful pulse that broke every bone in the finger pointing at his target. The sudden flash of pain threw Harry's aim off and the overpowered curse blasted the ground between both dragons, throwing them backwards in a shower of earth and stone. Once again, Murtagh's powerful shields absorbed both the fall and the hits from the debris raining around them.

Thorn looked at the black dragon gingerly getting back on its feet across the crater and turned to go after Eragon.

Not three steps closer to the Rider, Saphira stood before him, ready to defend her partner.

Harry was elated that his crazy idea had worked, that he had his magic back, but casting spells was hurting him and the more magic he put into a spell the worse the resulting wound was. His entire right arm still throbbed in time with his heart beat from casting the summoning charm and the burning pain of broken bones in his right talon was as blinding as it was familiar.

"Roran, are you alright?" He groaned as he got back on all fours, being very careful with his right forepaw.

"Hanging on… I don't know how I've not fallen yet." Roran groaned, hanging tight to the bone spike in front of him. In the tumble, his hands had slipped and he'd cut himself on the spike's sharp upper edge again.

Harry realized that his small arsenal of spells left him with very few attacks that could punch through Murtagh's formidable defenses and not kill him with the resulting wounds.

_The unforgivable curses will ignore his shields _Harry thought to himself, shaking his wings out to confirm nothing was broken. _But if a simple blasting curse broke several bones, an unforgivable might very well put me down for good. And I might miss._

What Harry needed was something that packed a lot of power without causing a massive spike in the magic he focused within himself; something that built up slowly.

"Roran, I need you to go around them and reach Eragon to see what he's doing." Harry said, an idea forming in his head.

"What for?" Roran asked, gingerly dismounting.

"I'm going to try something very stupid and dangerous." Harry replied. "I'll need you to tell him and his dragon that as soon as they see lightning in the sky, they should drop what they're doing and come over to my side _immediately."_

"Why? What will you do?"

"I'm going to cast a spell, one I've never used before." Harry explained, "Big magic like that often goes wrong."

"What's the deal with that?" Roran asked, bewildered. "I thought dragons couldn't use magic!"

"Now isn't the time!" Harry growled. "Go now! Before Thorn gets away from Saphira!"

Across the crater from Roran and Harry, Thorn and Saphira were having a fierce fight. Talons and fangs flashed, shields flared on both sides and neither gained the upper hand. Murtagh's spells only barely affected Saphira; something was countering them very fast despite the power the Rider put behind them.

"Help me across this hole you made then." Roran said, grabbing for Harry's spines again so he could be flown across the small crater. "It'll take too long to-"

Harry grabbed Roran in his healthy paw and tossed him towards Eragon. Fortunately, Roran's panicked scream was ignored by the fighting dragons and the lone Rider.

Roran cleared the hole and landed on the other side, rolling to reduce the impact on his already bruised body. He clambered to his feet and flipped the dragon off, not entirely certain he would understand without hanging bits for comparison.

_It's the thought that counts! _Roran grumbled to himself, running to Eragon and hoping Murtagh's fight was dangerous enough he decided to ignore the lone man running to his target.

Roran knew he'd been spotted when he felt the crushing force of Murtagh's magic crash against the formidable defenses Eragon had cast on him. The spell forced his protections to draw upon his own strength before breaking, leaving him panting and trembling, yet alive.

A pair of lithe cloaked elves rose from the tall grass around Roran and invoked a protective ward around them all just in time for Murtagh's next spell to break against it in an impressive flare of green magic.

Roran recognized Blödhgarm, Eragon's furred elf guard, panting on his right. He didn't know the elf on his left; the man was on his knees and almost unconscious after the combined barrier had faded away.

"Roran?!" cried Blödhgarm in surprise when he recognized his ward's cousin as the black dragon's rider.

The elf was prevented from saying anything else because of an explosion of blue light from behind them, where Saphira and Thorn still fought. All three people turned to see Saphira rearing in front of her smaller opponent to swipe a claw at Murtagh, unseating him. The shower of red sparks that flew around him when he was hit proved his personal shields were still holding strong, but his spell casting was interrupted.

Saphira paid a heavy price for the feat, however. Thorn did not ignore her vulnerable position and attacked with fangs and claws. Her wards were enough to prevent Thorn's biting her head off, but broke against the claws aimed at her belly. Frantic backpedaling kept her from being disemboweled; eight deep wounds painted her chest red instead.

Arya was suddenly between the three horrified spectators, slapping Eragon's belt against Blödhgarm's chest.

"Go distract Murtagh!" she ordered.

Blödhgarm ran off without a word.

"_What about Eragon?" _he asked with his mind as he ran.

"_He's still communing with the eagle spirit." _Arya replied.

"_I'll buy as much time as I can, but I've spent all my reserves already and I'm pretty drained as it is."_

"_Use the energy in the belt!" _Arya said. _"What about the others?"_

"_Invidia's waiting for the barrier to come down still," _Blödhgarm replied. He drained the energy from one of the twelve jewels and aimed his blade at Murtagh's neck, his elven stride letting him close the distance in just a couple seconds. _"Two are dead, the rest drained almost dry. It's just us."_

"Damn it!" Arya cursed aloud, watching Blödhgarm dance around Murtagh and his blade.

The elf had the advantage in strength and speed, as proven by the constant red flares of the human's shields. Murtagh's blade, Zar'roc, and magic were vastly superior however. If the Rider could concentrate enough to get a spell off or managed to cut through the elf's sword with his, Blödhgarm would die.

"_I'll hold him as long as I can" _Blödhgarm said. _"Get Eragon!"_

"Arya!" Roran cried, distracting her.

"Roran?!" the elf started. "What are you doing here?!"

"I'll explain later! We need to get to Eragon!" Roran said. "There's a storm coming and we need to be under cover when it hits."

"A storm?" Arya asked, looking at the clear –if red- sky above.

"He's calling it." Roran explained, pointing at Harry and deciding to keep his name out of the conversation in the interest of haste. "When the lightning starts up, we need to be close to him or we'll be in danger."

Arya had heard stories about the wild dragons of old being able to affect the weather if they set their minds to it, but even if Roran's dragon was able to do such a thing, she failed to see what use a storm would be.

"It does not matter." Arya replied grimly. "Eragon's been sitting in a trance since you and your friend arrived. You can try to wake him up, but I think he'll only react when he's finished with whatever plan he's set in motion."

Saphira's pained roar drew Arya's attention back to the fighting dragons, where Thorn was milking his shield advantage for all it was worth.

Fearing to close in on the smaller, more agile dragon, Saphira had allowed Thorn to get back into the air and he was harassing her nonstop, keeping her grounded. She'd managed to prevent him from getting a killing hold like the one that had felled Glaedr, but she was covered in wounds all the same. She was only focused on staying alive and keeping her wings in one piece.

Arya cast a protective ward around Saphira, throwing as much energy as she could into the spell. She felt a dizzy spell coming from the exertion, swaying drunkenly on her feet until Roran steadied her from behind. Before Saphira could get farther away, Arya drained all the energy she had stored in her gear and cast a healing spell at the dragon.

The words of the spell were a whisper Roran only barely heard, but its effects were obvious. Saphira's wounds stopped bleeding and some of them closed altogether.

Sensing the shields around her and feeling the invigorating effects of the healing spell, Saphira braced herself against Thorn's latest dive, letting him bounce off her protection and digging her claws into the ground to stay as still as possible. Thorn was disoriented from the unexpected rebuff and could not dodge when Saphira did a quick half turn and slammed her tail into his shields, sending him to the ground. Saphira took the opportunity to get back into the air.

Arya knew Saphira wouldn't be able to keep Thorn pinned down (he could power through her attacks with his stronger shields) but, like Blödhgarm, she could delay for a time.

"Let's go wake your cousin, Roran." Arya said, heading for Eragon as fast as she dared, in her state. Roran followed close behind her.

Eragon knew that spirits were powerful, their magic akin to a dragon's. He knew some of them, those that formed Shades, coveted the physical form of a body and thus were willing to possess someone for the benefit, fleeting though it usually was.

Touching a conscience as vast as the Urgal's eagle was a humbling and frightening experience. It communicated without words, through feelings and images that didn't lend themselves to explain complex abstract ideas like the spoken language of the sentient beings of Alagaësia.

This spirit had seen the shaping of their world, the Spine rise from the sea and jungles dry into the Hadarac desert. It was all Eragon could do not to be swept away by the images and feelings of a life that spanned ages. Eragon reached for his bond with Saphira, trusting (hoping) that a dragon's magic, the sheer power of a race so magical that they could erase someone from existence, would be enough to anchor him to his own conscience. Eragon could feel his partner's pain and urgency, his allies' need and worry for him even through the pressure of the spirit's conscience further grounding him until the alien mind took notice of him and acknowledged Eragon's presence.

From what he'd been able to understand from the spirit's mind, Eragon surmised that it had made contact with Zagrok's ancestors at some point and agreed to help them in return for something. Just what didn't matter to the Rider at the moment, but Zagrok's image in his mind let him convey to the spirit that he was working with the shaman's blessing.

The spirit riffled through Eragon's memory without regard for his mental protections, like the small spirits in the plains had done before. It inspected all his memories relating to Zagrok and his tribe, from their fight at Farthen Dur to their present march. After scrutinizing each and every episode to its satisfaction, the spirit retreated from the shaken Rider's mind and the sprit's great conscience settled around Eragon's, expectant curiosity reverberating through it.

Eragon's elation at having secured the mighty spirit's aid didn't last long past realizing just how difficult it was to communicate his request without words. Their first two attempts were a dismal failure, turning the acorns into empty burnt husks.

The last acorn seemed to still be alive when Eragon woke from his trance to inspect the now pale blue seed. Eragon could feel a faint tugging on his energy just by holding it in his hand, very much like the technique used to take energy from living things. His shields were affected by it too; Eragon felt their energy slowly swirl into the small seed on his palm.

A cold shiver raced up his spine when he realized just how dangerous his little experiment could become.

Eragon was seriously thinking about destroying the seed and finding some other way to bring down the barrier when Roran of all people, called out to him from behind.

"Eragon!" Roran cried.

"Roran?!" Eragon stared dumbfounded at his approaching cousin and the haggard looking Arya with him. "What are you doing here? You can't be here!"

"We saw the big red thing around this place early in the morning." Roran explained once they'd reached Eragon. "I couldn't stay away."

"What?" Eragon asked. "Last I'd heard you were miles away!"

"Explanations can wait." Arya interjected. "We've got more important things to worry about."

"What's happened while I was busy?" asked Eragon.

"Saphira's only barely holding Thorn back and I took your belt to Blödhgarm to keep Murtagh busy." Arya reported. "Can you bring down the barrier now?"

"Well, I've got everything ready. I'm just not sure if I should go on with my plan." Eragon said.

"We're not exactly spoiled for choices right now, cousin." Roran said.

"It's pretty dangerous." Eragon hedged.

"We'll deal with the consequences." Arya said. "Right now, we need to get rid of the curse before every human left in the camp dies on Urgal swords."

"Alright…" Eragon agreed, making a hole in the ground with his magic and planting the mutated acorn in it.

"What about Murtagh though?" he asked. "Getting rid of the barrier may not help us any against him."

"Roran and his dragon seem to have a plan for that." Arya said.

"What?!" Eragon boggled at the implications.

"I'll explain later." Roran urged. "But yes, there's something in the works and it won't take long for it to go off. Get on with it already!"

"It's only a matter of helping it grow big enough to crack the barrier." Eragon explained aloud for Roran's benefit. "Don't touch the tree as it grows, it'll probably kill you. Drop any protections you have, they'll just be in the way now."

Eragon passed this information through his mind link to his guards and Saphira. He then closed his eyes and sang in the Ancient Language; a song of power and endurance, of life and growing that poured his magic into the small seed in the ground before him.

A tiny shoot sprouted in the earth and in a few seconds became a sapling oak with blue wood and lavender leaves. Eragon felt the tree taking nourishment from the ground like any other plant, but he could also sense magic slowly draining into its leaves, helping its growth along.

"Will this take too long?" Roran quietly asked Arya.

"I imagine it will, unless he can throw a lot more power into his song." Arya replied. "We'll have to wait and see. At least it's working; the tree does feed on magic. How much does it have to grow to be useful? That, I don't know."

"It better be quick." Roran mused, looking at Saphira fighting Thorn and Blödhgarm's fight with Murtagh. "Saphira and Blödhgarm won't hold forever and we've got nothing else to throw at Murtagh when they're done."

After sending Roran on his way Harry worked on his own plan in earnest. He'd dreamt again early this morning, while Roran and his people made ready for the trip, and he was fairly certain that his dreams were memories of things that had actually happened.

If his dreams were memories, then the magic he'd seen was real too. It was a pity that he hadn't thought to test the theory before now, but he was pretty good at improvising-the one time he'd gotten himself killed, he'd taken the bad guy down with him.

He drew three different runes on the ground, going slowly so he could focus on what he remembered from his dreams and Harry found, much to his surprise, that he had little problem drawing the runes, despite not knowing a thing about the subject. He drew the runes clearly and with a steady hand, sitting on his haunches to stay off broken bones. Another trial run (just to be certain it wasn't a fluke) showed that if he focused too hard on what he was doing.

In the interest of time, Harry decided to trust muscle memory (even if it wasn't his own) and not to worry about specifics.

Harry pushed magic into his uninjured talon, feeling it squeeze his whole arm like the summoning charm had done. He felt it pool in his palm; a steady burn that hurt without marring his hide. When the gathered power was enough to produce a green glow over his claws, Harry drew the first rune in the air before him.

About a third of his claw chipped off by the time he was done, but eldritch drawing looked right to him.

_Here goes nothing…_

"Nef!" Harry intoned, focusing on what he'd seen happen before.

The effect was instantaneous. All the pooled magic vanished from his body the instant the word left his mouth. Despite blood rising in his throat and the painful shudders that wracked him, Harry almost roared his success as dense gray clouds unfolded from a point far above Harry, gradually carpeting the sky inside the dome.

_Now I just have to wait as long as I can. _Harry thought, feeling a dull throb all over his body that pulled magic out of him and into the sky with every beat of his heart. _Catch my breath, for Merlin's sake. _

The darkening gloom eventually clued the other combatants to the gathering storm, prompting everyone to act.

Thorn adroitly disengaged from Saphira and charged Murtagh's opponent. The other man chose to flee to Roran's little group rather than fight a dragon on foot.

"Confringo!" Harry cried, firing a blasting curse at Murtagh the moment his opponent was away.

Harry was ready for the pain of casting and he could keep his aim on target a little better this time around, but the resulting explosion was still not enough to cover his roar of pain as every bone below his elbow cracked. Channeling the rune's magic had made him more fragile.

Harry hobbled awkwardly on three legs, trying to shake off the shock from the pain when he felt the ground shake under him. He channeled his sudden panic into furious flapping that was barely enough to get him high enough to clear the stone spikes that exploded from under him.

While the dust settled, Harry steadied his flying and looked around the battlefield.

Saphira circled a fast growing tree, bathing it with a bright blue flame as she dodged the expanding branches. Roran and his other human allies were clustered at its base, keeping their distance from the thickening trunk. There were more people in the field than there had been when he joined the fight but he surmised that those he didn't know were allies, given that only Murtagh was trying to kill him.

"Garjzla!" Harry heard Murtagh's voice cry before he realized the Rider was coming at him from the ground. The resulting fireball hit Harry in the chest, dropping him to the ground.

Harry hit the ground curled around his burnt chest. When he finally stretched out and looked up he saw Thorn diving at him with all four talons stretched out for the killing blow, the naked bone in his tail trailing behind him in stark relief against the dark sky.

"Stupefy!" Harry cast on instinct, rolling out of the way.

Harry's casting arm went numb but to everyone's surprise, the red beam went right through Murtagh's wards and struck his dragon. Thorn tilted forward the moment he lost consciousness, giving Harry enough space to avoid them entirely.

Thorn didn't crash though, since Murtagh cast a hurried levitation spell to land. Seeing that Murtagh would be busy rousing his unconscious mount, Harry flew closer to the others and set about finishing his runic spell.

With his dominant hand numb from the shoulder down and his chest hurting like hell despite his scales having weathered the explosion as well as could be expected, Harry sat on his haunches and drew a barely serviceable rune with his left hand.

"Tyr!" Harry cast once the glowing rune was finished, his voice echoing over the plains. The rune's magic washed over him, leaving his body tingling but hardly crippled like his other spells had thus far. Harry laughed happily, realizing his idea was mostly correct: the bulk of the power behind this spell built up after casting the first rune; the rest wouldn't hurt him half as much!

Thunder rolled behind the echo of the rune's name and green lightning arced in the clouds above them. Harry's grin was all fangs.

"Come on Roran… you're up."

Eragon was singing nonstop, helping the mutated oak tree grow. When the clouds rolled in Arya stared, Roran hoped Shruikan's idea worked out, Blödhgarm returned and Eragon kept singing.

"What happened?" Arya asked, catching the belt Blödhgarm threw at her.

"That other Rider cast something big." The elf shrugged "Murtagh decided he was a bigger threat than Eragon and went after him instead."

Saphira was flying around the growing oak, bathing it with a steady stream of blue flame. The tree shot up ten times faster, the creak of wood and rumbling earth now very audible as wisps of clouds and red sparks swirled around the expanding canopy. The tree had already taken everybody's magical protections.

The sudden explosion distracted the three spectators from their reverie. They could all see Shruikan's outline in the sky.

"Where did you find this Rider, Roran?" Arya asked quietly. "He's very powerful."

"Indeed." Blödhgarm agreed.

"There's…" Roran gulped, turning back to the elves. "There's no other Rider."

"What?" Arya asked, confused. "That's impossible!"

"Where's all this magic coming from, then?" Blödhgarm asked.

"That's all him. That's all-Shruikan!" Roran cried when he saw the huge fireball down the black dragon.

"What did you say?!" Blödhgarm roared.

"Explain yourself!" Arya ordered.

"You have to help him!" yelled over the two elves, when he saw Thorn's red form diving for his friend.

The point was moot however. A red flash struck Thorn and the dragon crashed behind Shruikan, who took to the air and landed much closer to them.

"Never mind that." Roran amended around a relieved sigh. "Get Eragon, tell your elves to find cover. We're out of time."

Eragon, however, had decided to join them after hearing the last part of their argument.

"Just what the hell is going on Roran?!" he asked.

"We'll explain later." Roran said, nonplussed. "For now, let it be enough that he's on our side."

Eragon stared hard at his cousin for a few moments and nodded.

"_Saphira, that's enough! We're getting out of here!"_

"Should we trust him?" asked Arya after hearing Eragon's call through their mind link.

"He's taking on Murtagh without any shields of his own, judging from that last hit. For us." Eragon said. "That earns him the right to speak and be listened to, in my book."

"What about the tree?" Blödhgarm asked as Saphira landed beside them.

"We've done as much as we can. Anything else would be too dangerous." Eragon explained, climbing into his saddle. "Besides, it's already doing what it's supposed to; it's only a matter of time now. Get on!"

A word resonated all around them before anyone else moved. Light blinded them all as a web of green lightning arced above them and the rolling thunder behind it shook their bones.

As soon as they blinked the stars out of their eyes, Roran and the two elves clambered onto Saphira and held onto Eragon, his saddle or herself as best they could while she flew over to where Shruikan waited.

Behind them, eddies of red magic and swirls of clouds fed the steadily growing oak.

Within moments, Roran and his party reached the black dragon. Saphira landed a few feet away so everybody could get down.

"A word of advice though," Roran said. "Shruikan is very much unlike Saphira."

"How so?" Eragon asked, intrigued.

"Well he-"

"Roran! Great timing!" Shruikan rumbled. "Get over here, quickly!"

"-talks, for starters." Roran finished, taking in his companions' dumbstruck faces.

Roran ushered everyone closer, taking in his friend's battered and bruised state. His chest was one big burn, his right foreleg seemed useless and his face still dripped blood, but he was in good spirits in spite of all that.

"You look like shit." He said.

"Yes, well. The _other_ asshole's riding on several dragons' worth of magic." Shruikan replied. "I'd say I'm doing pretty well for myself, all things considered."

"There is that." Roran agreed.

"We can do introductions later," Shruikan told everyone, opening his wings. "Right now, I need you all to get as close as you can, for your own safety. Don't get under me though; I may collapse when all this is finished."

The mystified humans and elves huddled under one wing close to his body, while Saphira crouched low to fit under the Shruikan's other wing and sidled up to him.

"Don't move away until there's no more lightning," Shruikan added, shaking some feeling back into his right forepaw. "because everyone out there will be shit out of luck."

A faint green glow shone on Shruikan's raised talon and everyone watched as he drew a strange symbol in the air, chipping his index claw down to a nub in the process. Some distance away, Murtagh and Thorn got back into the air and observed their group, as if Shruikan's last attack had made him hesitate to attack head on again.

"Here's a dose of real magic for you, cowards!" Shruikan snarled.

"Nef!" He called the name of the first rune again, causing its likeness to appear on the ground at the tip of each of his wings.

"Tyr!" Upon casting the second rune, it etched itself onto the ground, inches from the tip of his muzzle and behind him, at the tip of his tail.

"Thurisaz!" The third casting caused the rune Shruikan had traced to disappear. Concentric rings of green lightning flashed in the sky, centered on Shruikan

Suddenly, the red gloom around them and the dome in the distance blinked a couple times and disappeared, leaving the sun shining around a localized thunderstorm very close to the ground.

"Invidia destroyed the altar!" Eragon cried.

"Shit! That means Murtagh can leave!" Shruikan snarled when he saw Thorn turn tail and rocket for the edge of the storm.

"Oh, no you won't…" Shruikan growled, glaring at the fleeing Rider. "_Drepa, Mjolnir!"_

The third rune appeared above Murtagh and Thorn, following them and Shruikan's conscience fled into the storm.

When Harry triggered Voldemort's deceptively simple storm spell, he realized what a magical juggernaut he'd summoned.

He saw everything under the canopy of clouds as a black expanse where he was aware of every living thing as shining beacons in the dark. He instinctively knew how much power resided in the clouds and felt it when any amount of it left them.

Living things drew lightning to them when they were big enough (and from the amount of lightning falling in and around the Varden encampment, Harry was pretty certain that adult humans _were _big enough). Compared to the multitude of targets in the camp or the huge magic devouring tree behind them, Murtagh may as well be invisible to the spell.

Fortunately, Harry's idea to keep his party safe worked: He could see his own body –open wings and all- as if in the eye of a hurricane; safe in a space where no lightning could reach.

It took Harry precious moments to understand the workings of the spell at this stage and yet more seconds to wrest enough power from the storm to actually direct it to the moving beacon that was the third casting rune, Thurisaz.

Once he managed to direct them, several bolts of lightning converged on the rune floating above Murtagh and a column of electricity bore down on the Rider.

_The Traitor dies here, today._ Harry thought to himself.

Murtagh, however, had made good use of the time it took Harry to prime his attack.

Having witnessed firsthand just how much magic a Rider's blade could handle during his fight with the elven Master Rider Oromis, Murtagh anchored a shield against lightning on Zar'roc and pumped every bit of magic on his person into the blade and raised it when the smell of ozone surrounded them.

The massive lightning bolt crashed against the red blade and broke into many smaller ones that arced over the shield protecting Murtagh and Thorn. Deep in his mind, Harry growled in defiance and fought to push as much power as he could into the spell before Murtagh left the storm or the giant tree on its other end devoured most of its strength.

Eventually Murtagh was forced to focus his magic into a smaller, sturdier shield, leaving Thorn largely unprotected. However, the dragon pressed on in spite of the shocking burns from the magical lightning that twisted back to hit him instead of dissipating into the ground.

Roran and everyone with him were awed at the staggering display of power unfolding before them.

"He's going to kill them!" Eragon cried, alarmed.

"I fail to see how that's a bad thing." Roran growled.

"He's _family _Roran! He's spared me before!" Eragon snarled, turning to face his cousin. "Hell, he even did it _today_!

"I don't know how managed it now, but do you really think that we'd still be alive if he'd put as much effort into killing us as he did in defending himself?"

"The words he knew." Arya interrupted, trying to defuse the situation.

"I-what?" Roran sputtered.

"Galbatorix probably let Murtagh handle his own studies of the Ancient Language." Arya elaborated. "He didn't seem to have a lot of words and spells to use for attack, so he must have focused on his own defenses. That way he'd be able to face Galbatorix and say that he did his best effort to kill us and still fall short of doing it."

"It's not a mistake the Emperor will repeat, if that's the case." Blödhgarm said.

"Look, it doesn't' matter! You can't put everything else at risk for the sake of saving Murtagh." Roran said, turning back to Eragon. "Look at what he can do on his own-and half trained at that, if Arya's right."

"I didn't let the dangers stop me from helping you save your wife, did I?" Eragon whispered back.

Roran started at his cousin's words and heaved a resigned sigh.

"_Whatever you're going to do, better do it fast._" Saphira said. "_Thorn's almost out of the storm and this one will kill himself if this spell of his doesn't stop right now!_"

Indeed, in a show of supernatural stamina, Thorn had kept an excellent pace through the onslaught. Eragon judged he was a couple minutes away from the edge of the clouds.

When Eragon turned to Shruikan, the Rider realized with only a very superficial scan of the dragon's body that he was on the verge of irreparable harm.

_His heart will do him in well before Murtagh's clear of the clouds_. Eragon thought to himself, trying to understand what the dragon had done to cast his spell.

All three wizards figured it out at the same time.

"The drawings!" Eragon cried. "We have to destroy them! Quick Roran, head for the one by his other wing!"

The two elves were ahead of Eragon and his cousin, dashing the runes at Shruikan's front and tail with their swords before the latter did the same with the runes at the dragon's wings. Shruikan sagged forward and Saphira scrambled to support the much larger dragon.

The lightning web above Murtagh disappeared in the blink of an eye; the storm clouds started breaking down seconds after that and Thorn fled into the clearing sky.

Harry came to with a start, to find himself eye to eye with a bright blue dragon. He tried to speak but ended up coughing up blood for his trouble.

"Good to see you're still alive!" Roran said, stepping into Harry's view when he settled down.

"Are they dead?" Harry asked, ignoring the human's broad smile.

"No. We had to break your spell."

"Why the hell would you do that?!" Harry growled back.

"The way my cousin tells it, your heart would have exploded before you fried Murtagh." Roran explained. "We figured you'd rather stay alive."

"Oh… well… I guess I'll have to settle for the bastard shitting his pants every time it rains, then." Harry grumbled as he carefully got back on all fours.

His comment startled a laugh out of Roran and his companions, allowing Harry a moment to study them. Judging from Shruikan's memories, there were three elves plus the dragon.

He also took stock of his injuries and realized that despite feeling bone tired, he wasn't in quite as much pain as he was when he invoked the storm spell. The burn on his chest was healed, he wasn't coughing up blood and the pain in his right arm was merely excruciating, as opposed to unspeakable.

"I suppose I should thank your cousin for healing me." Harry said.

"That wouldn't be a bad idea, let me introduce you." Roran said.

Roran turned to the other people before Harry.

"This is Blödhgarm, one of my cousin's bodyguards." Roran said, pointing to the strangely furred elf.

"This is Arya, the elf you were looking for." He said, pointing at the black haired elf that glared suspiciously at him.

"That's Saphira over there, my cousin's dragon companion." Roran said, nodding at the dragon behind the last of the elves. She looked surprised… gobsmacked really, if Harry were to be honest.

"Lastly, this is my cousin, Eragon." He said, throwing an arm around the elf's shoulder.

"Everyone, this is Shruikan."


	7. Strings, attached and otherwise

Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling _et ál_. The Inheritance Cycle is the property of Christopher Paolini _et ál_. No copyright infringement is intended with this work. No profit is being made from its publishing either. This is merely written for entertainment.

"Well," Harry said after a minute of silence. "This is awkward."

"Give them some time," Roran said, "It's a pretty big thing to have you flying around and actually helping."

"You talked to me just fine when we first met, if you'll recall."

"That was more trying to convince you not to eat my men than knowing who you were."

"Eat your men?! I was being perfectly reasonable! Why would you think that?"

"You'd just gobbled up the imperials we were chasing; I'd say getting eaten was a valid concern."

"I'll have you know I didn't eat anybody." Harry replied, carefully stretching his limbs to confirm everything was working. "Not right then, anyway. One of the imperials even got away… I wonder what happened to him."

"How in the world did you two meet?" Eragon asked.

"A better question," Arya interrupted, "would be _how _you escaped Galbatorix."

There was silence again, expectant this time.

"That's a bit of a story." Harry hedged after a moment, looking around and at all the people arrayed before him. Roran had gone over to his cousin and was waiting for his answer with the rest.

The strange blue oak still siphoned eddies of clouds from the storm off in the distance and the smell of rain was heavy about them. The growing chill in the air made Harry's abused bones ache. Not that long ago he'd been shrugging off freezing winds in the Spine and now he was feeling like an abused old man.

His own discomfort aside, Harry worried about the sort of questions that these people would ask of Shruikan. Since arriving in this world, he'd dreamt bits and pieces of the dragon's memories; they'd later gotten mixed up enough with Voldemort's more vivid experiences to make sleeping at night a real adventure. He only recalled the more salient points of Shruikan's death, but he didn't know anything of the time between Shruikan's kidnapping and his imprisonment in the Silent Vigil beyond a deep, abiding hatred for Galbatorix and a fear of possession so strong, it bordered on phobia.

Needless to say, actively trying to remember anything with his head like that was a scary prospect.

"Is this really the place for something like this?" Harry asked.

"We can't really allow you into camp just like that. There's a lot of… animosity between the Varden and the Empire." Eragon explained, "Even taking into account your help with Murtagh just now, a lot of people… most people really, will only see you as the next best thing to having the Emperor on hand to kill."

Harry's derisive snort showed what he thought of that eventuality.

"My thoughts exactly." Roran said, "We'll need something to work with though, if we're going to find you a place with the Varden."

"We have also had close personal experience with Galbatorix's spies and the Emperor's penchant for learning inconvenient Names." Arya added, glaring at Eragon for good measure. "The last thing we need is a preprogrammed dragon, however well intentioned, amidst what is left of the Varden."

"I know what you mean, miss." Harry growled, "Still, I'd have thought that my questioning would be a lot harsher than this… whatever this is."

Merlin knew Harry would have dumped a cauldron's worth of veritaserum down any turncoat's throat in the same situation. Considering that Shruikan leaving Galbatorix was more like Bellatrix deserting Voldemor, Harry would kill first and… that's pretty much it, really.

Everybody else looked at each other for a few moments before Blödhgarm took it upon himself to explain.

"Your fight with Murtagh was a very compelling argument by itself. We believe that if there was something the Emperor would have thought to prevent you from doing, it is killing his best agents.

"That said, we need to know you are as committed to our cause as the rest of us." He said.

"And that cause would be?" Harry asked.

"The Emperor's death." Roran answered.

"The goodwill of the people you see here carries a lot of weight with the Varden, and we elves know that you alone, out of all the Forsworn, did not follow Galbatorix willingly." Blödhgarm continued, encompassing the gathered people with a broad wave of his hand. "It has been, however, more than a hundred years since Vroengard fell and people forget these things in the face of constant strife. Tell us your story, that we may judge what brought you here and tell our superiors what we think."

"Later, when things are calmer, I'll have to ask you to let me into your mind. It's a requirement for anyone wanting to join the Varden." Eragon said.

Harry balked at that. Shruikan's lingering fear of mental invasion and Harry's own loathing of mind magic fed off each other, throwing him into a rage in an instant.

"No one goes into my head but me!" Harry snarled. "I did not spend the last forty years fending off that bastard just to throw my mind wide open for a ragtag lot of jumped up minutemen and their pet Rider."

Everyone started at Harry's outburst and Saphira pushed forward, to stand between the suddenly enraged Shruikan and her friends. Both dragons stared each other down with bared fangs and half open wings.

"Just try me." Harry growled, "You saw how it went for that coward Murtagh and _he _was toting around several dragon's worth of magic."

The dragon's growling was too loud in the tense silence that followed. Harry was a good bit larger than Saphira, but he knew she was far deadlier in a close quarters fight than he could hope to be.

Harry pooled his much abused magic, preparing to cover a quick getaway when Roran stepped between them.

"Calm down!" he yelled, waving at Shruikan. "Yes, I'm talking to you, idiot!"

"Are you suicidal or just _that _stupid?!" Harry asked back, "You keep pestering me like this and I'll take that meal you owe me out of your hide."

"I'm only half as stupid as you think." Roran replied, "I know _she _won't do anything stupid with me standing in the middle."

"You wouldn't even make a decent mouthful, come to think of it." Harry harrumphed.

"You can't hear a word she's saying, can you?"

"What?" Harry asked, nonplussed.

"Saphira." Roran explained, "You really can't hear anything she says."

"I'm sure you're dying to interpret for her."

"It wasn't very flattering." Roran said airily, ignoring her disdainful snort behind him. "It doesn't bear repeating. Still, don't you think that was out of proportion?"

"Mind magic is a difficult thing for me to deal with." Harry growled, "The elves know why, if they remember as much as they say they do."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." Eragon said, "If it's that much of a problem, maybe Saphira can do it in my stead; she can't work the sort of magic you're… worried about but she can do enough to vouch for you."

Harry gave Saphira a more searching glance after that, taking a deep breath to calm down. He eventually lay down again and she followed suit, close enough to bite if he made any sudden movements.

"We'll see." Harry told her, "I'll think about it and get back to you, alright?"

Saphira nodded and finally relaxed.

"How is it that you can speak?" Eragon asked suddenly.

"Err… My magic did that one day." Harry said, shrugging his wings, "I wasn't willing to open my mind to Galbatorix just to speak; I think I wanted to talk bad enough that it happened on its own, just to spite him."

"Huh. Odd magic, that." Eragon said, sitting down next to Saphira. "No stranger than hers, I suppose."

"Where were we?" Harry asked.

"You were telling us about Galbatorix and how you escaped him." Arya replied.

"There's really not much to tell. I don't remember much of the time when Galbatorix actually rode me." Harry explained, "I can only tell you that he put me inside the tower when I could fight his compulsion enough that it'd have been dangerous for him to get on my back.

"Breaking into my mind to learn my Name didn't appeal to him… he didn't want a dumb beast to fly around on, after all. After thinking about it, he put me in the tower, sat down and spent the next several decades trying to bore me, starve me or trick me into opening my mind for him. Fortunately, since he wanted to fly on my back he never got very physical.

"All in all it was a really long time with nothing to do, unable to move and only now and then interrupted by reports from his underlings. Arya's trick with Saphira's egg was good entertainment for days and his bitching about her escape kept me going for months.

"In the end, it wasn't anything terribly clever that got me out." Harry sighed, "I actually owe my escape to your teacher, Eragon."

"What?" he asked, puzzled. "How so?"

"Oromis fought Murtagh quite some time ago now. I think Murtagh may have killed him but I don't know for certain." Harry explained, speaking carefully while he drug Shruikan's memories to the forefront of his mind and described them. "Galbatorix couldn't resist gloating about it and threw his mind _into _Murtagh."

Harry sighed again, sad that he couldn't speak the truth about Shruikan's real escape. The one willing action he took in life and nobody would know about it. Harry wasn't willing to jeopardize a potential alliance with the Varden by explaining his presence here when Harry himself didn't even know _how _he'd woken up in this world and ended up in Shruikan's body.

"Galbatorix may have not taken his eyes off me since locking himself inside the Vigil with me, but he never bothered to ward the window he floated me through on the first day." Harry shrugged, "As soon as he started ranting, I walked out the window."

When Harry looked around, he found dumbfounded stares in every face.

"What? Powerful people tend to make obvious mistakes like that. I knew it was just a matter of time until he slipped up somewhere, although I'll admit he was very patient."

"You just… flew away?" Arya asked incredulously. "And you expect us to believe he did not follow?"

"Oh I'm sure he would have, if he'd known where to find me." Harry said, carefully skirting the truth. "I ended up in the mountains north of here; it's pretty hard to find something that doesn't want to be found in there, even something as big as myself."

"You've been in the Spine?" Eragon asked.

"If that's what they're called, then yes. I headed south eventually, stayed in a cave overlooking a big lake for a while and headed south again when I saw imperial troops being ferried south across the water. I met Roran and his men while they chased some of those soldiers out of a burning village half a day west of here."

"That's Alavir. We followed a band of imperials there three days ago, chased them out of there and met Shruikan after he mopped them up." Roran explained.

"Ferrying troops south?" Blödhgarm wondered. "How many would you say headed this way?"

"No idea, but they'd been at it for a while before I decided to head down here to see what they were up to." Harry said, "I don't really know where they were headed beyond that big city by the lake north of here. I stayed over the mountains on my way south; it was just luck that I came across Roran and his group."

"I left Yarbog and the others watching the road from Belatona in case someone in there thinks to run us over after- what's wrong?"

Everybody else suddenly stood up and Eragon climbed onto Saphira's saddle.

"Something's come up that I need to see." Eragon told Roran, "Get back to camp and speak to Lady Nasuada or whoever is in charge there; I'll meet you there and come fetch Shruikan after we've smoothed things over for him."

The elves nodded and Eragon flew away.

"What was that about?" Shruikan asked.

"There's seems to be something important going on at the ritual site." Arya said, "Eragon needed to take a look at it."

"I see." Harry said, "What now?"

"We'll head back and get things started with the Varden. It will take time, though." Arya said.

"I'll be here by nightfall then, I need to get myself something to eat." Harry said, getting on his feet and gingerly testing his limbs.

"Very well, then. Let's go."

"You go on ahead." Roran said, "I'll be right behind you, I need to speak to Shruikan first."

Arya and Blödhgarm walked away and Roran went to Harry.

"I… wanted to thank you. You saved our lives today. " The human said.

"There's no need. I need your help as much as you needed mine."

"Still, you almost died… I wanted you to know that I appreciate it. I owe you one… we all do, I think."

"Just keep your promises and we'll be just fine." Harry chuckled, bumping Roran with his snout. "I could use that meal now if you can get it though, I'm starving."

"I don't think that's going to happen." Roran said, throwing a worried look at the mess that was left of their camp. "We're going to have to head back real fast if we don't want to get caught by winter, or worse, intelligent imperials."

"Oh well, it was worth a shot. I'll have to see if I can get myself anything for myself around here." The prospects weren't terribly good; the place was very likely hunted all but bare from feeding all these people. "Come on, I'll walk you closer to camp. I'm feeling too stiff for flying."

Harry leaned down and Roran climbed onto his back again. He couldn't hold back a wince when he felt Roran's weight, his joints creaked as he walked and there was an irritating itch between his wings that he found very difficult to ignore but he also needed to talk to the man.

"There was also something I wanted to ask you." Harry said after a few minutes walking in silence.

"What is it?"

"You know I don't have a Rider, and I need one. I can't keep casting my own spells if everything I pull is liable to kill me."

"Well, you said you were looking for Arya." Roran pointed out, "I really can't think of anyone better suited for the job."

"She was the only available choice when we met." Harry stopped, leaning down so Roran could dismount. "This is close enough to camp, I think. I don't want them getting nervous and start shooting at me."

Roran dropped to the ground and looked at the remains of the Varden encampment with Harry.

Small fires still burned all over the place and corpses littered the ground, most of them bitten and clawed to death in the curse's frenzy. The most harrowing sight though, was the pile of smoldering men that perfectly lined the urgal's spirit shield's boundary. Galbatorix's spell had forced the possessed to throw themselves into the golden dome trying to break it… most of them were still alive, their agonized moans carrying on the wind all the way to Roran and Harry.

"I don't think there's enough bowmen left in there that you'd notice them firing at you." Roran said sadly.

"Someone will have to do something about the wounded." Harry mumbled.

"We can't afford to take a lot of them back with us." Roran said, trying to keep his voice steady. "We'll need to be out of here soon."

"You can't do anything for them?"

"Most of that are our supplies going up in flames." Roran said, pointing to the largest bonfires in the camp.

"I could help." Harry said suddenly, "Like back at Alavir! Carn healed a lot of people with a very small crystal."

"No." Roran snapped back. "You're half dead yourself; do you really think you could spare the energy it would take to help all those people without killing yourself?"

"Well… not really, no." Harry hedged, "but we could-"

"Absolutely not!" Roran growled, "What happened with the girl was an unfortunate accident and I won't hand over such knowledge to the likes of the Du Vrangr Gata, not even for this."

A strained silence descended between them. Neither man nor dragon said anything for long moments, until the rumble of thunder and a light cold drizzle distracted them.

"You want me to join you, and yet you don't trust the very people you fight with."

"Oh I trust the Varden army just fine." Roran said, "It's just that most of the Du Vrangr Gata have a lust for power so obvious that you can see it a mile away. They're frustrated mages that for one reason or another couldn't, or wouldn't stay in the Imperial Academy."

"Carn seems like a good sort, though."

"Not all of them are like that, sadly." Roran agreed, "It's the ones at the top that worry me; they're none too pleased that Lady Nasuada shoved Eragon down their throats. I keep thinking they'll stab him in the back just to have someone they approve of in charge of the whole thing."

"You're not doing a very good job of convincing me to stay, you know."

"I'm just being honest." Roran shrugged, "It takes all sorts to fight the Empire, and we can't all get along all the time. It doesn't change the fact that we need each other's help, either."

"I want you to be my Rider." Harry said, after giving the human a long searching look.

"Excuse me?" Roran asked, nonplussed.

"You heard me."

"Where the hell did this come from?" Roran asked, bewildered, "What about Arya?!"

"What about her?"

"Wasn't she the whole reason you came here?"

"When I learned of her, I was still trapped in a tower and she'd just kicked the Emperor's teeth in. What other choice did I have?"

"What other choice _is _there?!" Roran yelled, "She already knows everything she needs to know to be a Rider!"

"And what do I know _about_ her? Tell me that." Harry challenged, "Nothing, that's what! I already know _you _for a good man."

"Why give me a choice at all, then?" Roran asked, "Eragon didn't get one."

"I've been forced into service." Harry growled, anger and past frustration tinging his words. "I would never do the same to anybody else."

It was hard, too. The moment he asked the question, power surged inside Harry despite his tiredness. It didn't help that Harry now felt the pull of that blasted tree like someone trying to peel the hide off his body, what with all that magic ready to go off at the barest of touches and do Merlin only knew what, likely turning Roran into his Rider.

"I… I need to think about it." Roran stammered.

"I know." Harry said, "I understand. We'll talk next time we see each other."

"Where are you going?" Roran asked when Harry stepped back and opened his wings.

"Like I said before, I need to get myself something to eat."

"Will you come back here when you're done?"

"I don't think I'll be up for it, to be honest." Harry chuckled, "Your cousin may have put me back together, but I'm still pretty beat up. I'll stay somewhere out of the way for a few days while I heal and catch up to you."

"I'll see you in a few days." Roran said, stepping closer to Harry, who leaned back at the movement.

"Best that you don't touch me until you… make up your mind."

"Oh! Oh." Roran started. "I… see. Alright then, be careful out there. Look for us at Feinster, south of here, if you don't find us on the road."

Harry hurried out of there after that awkward farewell. It was stupid to feel Roran's reluctance as rejection and Harry knew it, but the little boy in his heart that had never stopped yearning for acceptance couldn't help feeling slighted.

Harry needed to get his mind off things for a while and hunting was as good a distraction as any, besides, eating would help him ignore the little voice in the back of his mind that insisted burying all those bodies back there was a waste of good meat. Putting some distance between the damn tree and himself wouldn't be amiss either; the pull its strange magic had on him was really starting to hurt and he wouldn't be able to take much more and stay mobile in his present condition.

After several minutes in the air, he'd lost himself in the pleasure of flying despite his many aches and pains. Suddenly, a terrible pain wracked his body; the tree's magic flayed Harry from head to tail, leaving the wizard feeling as if he'd left his skin several feet behind. His wings seized up; all his body was cold and unresponsive. Harry fell from the sky like a brick and saw the ground rushing up to meet him before he lost consciousness.

Harry awoke disoriented and still in pain.

He was in a dank hole in the ground with barely enough space to sit up in, his head was killing him and he'd obviously shrunk while he was out. Harry crawled outside and gingerly stood up to look himself over.

He was bipedal and about as short as he'd been back in England. Then again, after being a hundred year old dragon, anything was small.

There were actual opposable thumbs on his hands again though, praise be to Merlin, so it wasn't all bad.

After a couple minutes spent admiring his hands (flexing fingers and moving his wrist every possible way), he noticed the scales that were staring him in the face. And the claws on his fingers.

Harry realized with a start that he _wasn't _entirely human.

"Oh come _on_!" Harry groaned when he noticed that his groin was still bare of… anything really. "I deserved that back at least!"

He'd gotten used to that particular quirk of being a reptile quickly when he first turned into Shruikan - mostly because his size let him forget about it. Now, standing up as a human would, the lack of anything external was positively distracting.

"Grin and bear it, Harry…" he told himself, "It could be worse."

It was actually worse. He couldn't find a single patch of human skin anywhere on his body and long bone spikes from his elbows; his face was also covered in scales and Merlin only knew what he actually looked like now… at least his eyes were still a dragon's, judging from the shades of gray he could see all around him. The only spot of color in the night was a small campfire some distance away from the hole he'd woken up in where he could make out someone tending to the fire; the faint smell of roasting meat coming from the place made Harry's gut give a plaintive rumble.

He could get some food and directions there, if whoever was there didn't run at the first sight of him. He'd get the food if the owners ran, at least.

Walking on two feet after so long on four was awkward. Painful too, since there still were wings on his back and they had cramped from his laying on them. They throbbed painfully with every step he took.

"You took your time." Said the small woman Harry found in the campsite. "We've been waiting for you to wake up for more than a week."

"Thanks for saving me." Harry said.

"It was no problem," The girl said, "It was just the digging that was annoying."

"What?" asked a bewildered Harry. "Where did you find me?"

"Not far from here, three or four miles west. We had to get away from that mess you and Eragon made before the Imperials came looking." She explained, "We would have made it farther but picking through all that ice was difficult and Didi didn't want to jostle you around too much."

"Ice? What ice? Who's Didi?"

"Just one of my friends." She said with a smile and nodded at three rabbits roasting in the fire. "Aren't you going to eat? You must be very hungry."

"Who… Never mind." Harry said with a tired smile.

Harry gingerly sat by the fire and dug into one of the rabbits, eating the whole thing without stopping when he realized how hungry he was. He paused before taking a second rabbit.

"Thank you again for saving my life, miss…"

"Angela," She said. "And I didn't save your life so much as made it easier. You weren't dying, just unconscious."

"Thanks for finding me then, Miss Angela."

"You're welcome, but it was really Didi that found you, I just invited myself along because she's a friend and I didn't want her travelling alone." She said with a shrug. "The roads are dangerous nowadays."

Harry bit into the rabbit to keep from snapping at the irritating girl. It would not do to be rude to the person who'd just saved your life and fed you, no matter how irritating she was about accepting gratitude.

"Anyway, I'm-"

"Shruikan, I know."

"How did you-"

"Didi told me." Angela shrugged again. "Didn't I just tell you she was looking for you?"

"And where is this Didi?" Harry growled, fed up with the girl.

"She had to go see about some business with her brother, but she'll be back soon."

"In the middle of nowhere this late at night?" Harry asked skeptically.

"We've all got our little quirks." Angela smiled. "Like you! Why would you want to try and turn yourself human?"

"It was an accident, if you must know." Harry mumbled around his food.

"Hm, that makes sense." She said. "Not that a dragon trying to be human makes much sense mind you, just that you botched the magic so badly."

"It was the bloody tree's fault!" Harry growled.

"Ah yes, _that _tree." Angela said, growing somber. "I saw it when we picked you up. Eragon's little trick will be a real problem before too long."

Harry ate in silence after that, only the crunching bones of his dinner and the sputtering fire disturbed the quiet night.

"It was a decent effort though," She said, "it's just the eyes, and the scales… those wings are very obvious, and you shouldn't smile at people with those teeth."

Harry said nothing.

"If you stay out of cities and away from people, you really could pass for a human. Just fold the wings around your shoulders… ought to look like a really expensive cloak."

"Thanks for the tip," Harry said with a strained smile, "But I've got a terrible cramp in the joints. I can barely move them."

"I'll go see if I can find something in my pack to help that cramp in your wings." Angela said after Harry finished eating. "Didi will be back soon and she'll want to talk to you in private."

"Where are you going?"

"Our horses are that way." Angela said, pointing at an indistinct clump of trees to their left. "We didn't know what state you'd wake up in, so we thought it prudent to keep them safe in case you were violent. Trust me, going from here to anywhere on foot would take a long time."

She stood up and walked into the night.

Harry sighed to himself after she was gone. "And I'll just wait here?"

"Don't fret Mr. Potter," Said a quiet voice behind him. "I'm Didi."

Harry started and turned to find another short, dark haired woman approaching the fire, from the direction he himself had come. She wore travelling leathers, high riding boots and a cloak about her shoulders, clasped with a large golden ankh.

"Who are you? How do you know my name?" Harry demanded.

"I've been aware of you most of your life," She said, "Although I've only taken an active interest in you for the past year or so."

She absently threw more wood into the fire and stoked it. "I'm Death."

Harry's disdainful snort was loud and expected. "Pull the other one, why don't you?" He said, "I assume you're Didi?"

"I often use the name, yes" She shrugged "I understand how you can't take me at face value, but I don't need more proof than the Stone in your breast," she pointed at Harry's breast where, on his right side, the symbol of the hallows shone with a faint purple glow, "the Cloak about your shoulders, or the Wand that even now calls out for its Master."

Harry winced, hearing a cacophony of voices screaming in his ear; he swayed, dizzy for several moments and when his vision cleared, he noticed the silver shine to the scales under his wings.

"Was that-"

"The Elder Wand?" Death asked, "Yes. It's the nastiest of all Hallows… Ironically, it ought to be the safer one to use now."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"You'll believe me now?" she asked back, sounding just a little bit smug.

"Hard not to, with this thing on my chest." Harry said, placing a hand over the glowing sigil, "Besides, you know too much about the Hallows; even back home almost no one knew anything about them. If you're not Death, at least you know more than I do."

"Fair enough."

"Let's say, for the sake of argument, that I believe you." Harry said, rattled, "How did you do… whatever you did just now? I dropped the Cloak and the Stone before going to Voldemort, and I never had the Wand to begin with."

"I see your people forgot a lot of the old lore." Death sighed. "Nobody took the Cloak and the Stone from you by force and you didn't bequeath them to anyone either; the Wand you won from Draco Malfoy at Wiltshire when you disarmed him. All three Hallows were yours when you died; whether you carried them on your person or not is irrelevant."

She unclasped her cloak and dropped it beside her, along with a small leather satchel. She sat down on her cloak and rummaged through the bag, producing a small iron pot and a bunch of dried herbs.

"Get some water for tea, please."

"How would I know where to get any?" Harry grumbled.

The petite woman threw him a flat stare, "are you a wizard or are you not?" she asked, shaking the pot. "Water, please."

"Hell no! Not without a wand anymore." Harry huffed, "In case you've forgotten, I almost killed myself last week doing magic."

"What did I just tell you? You _have _a Wand, the most powerful one in existence, even." Death said, "Call it."

"How? I didn't even know I had it!"

"Wish for it."

Feeling stupid but willing to humor the woman just in case she was the real thing, Harry focused on his desire for a wand and called out for the Elder Wand to come to him.

A storm of whispers erupted around the campsite, as if Harry stood before an expectant crowd. The earth before him moved suddenly and skeleton arms sprouted from the ground before him. Far too quickly for such a grisly spectacle, four pristine human skeletons had pushed themselves out of the earth and knelt back to back before Harry. One hand rested on their bent knee and the other was raised above them. There, cupped in their joined hands, rested Professor Dumbledore's wand, the Elder Wand.

Harry had to stand up to pick the wand up from the bone hands. The moment he did, the skeletons crumbled to dust and the whispers quieted.

Death raised her pot with an exasperated smile and Harry, wrestling with the weirdness of the last few minutes, absently cast aguamenti for tea.

"Try not to lose it," Death said as she prepared the tea and placed the pot on the fire, "as you just saw, it likes to make an entrance and it won't always be painless. On the plus side, it will always come when _you_ call."

"You talk as if it is alive." Harry said.

"Not alive; sentient." She said, "All three Hallows are, to an extent, but the wand most of all. All three Hallows take the souls of those who use them, it was just the more widely circulated one. If you put that many souls and that much magic together long enough, you get sentience… or some semblance of it, at least."

"What?!" Harry asked, dropping the wand in his shock, "What do you mean?"

"It's simple enough," Death explained, taking small tin cups from her bag and pouring the tea, "The Hallows imprison their Master's soul and magic when they die; every soul the Hallows take makes them more resilient, while their Master's magic makes the Hallows more powerful."

"Professor Dumbledore's soul is inside the wand?" asked a horrified Harry.

"Not his. He hasn't crossed over yet." The slight girl growled over her cup. "It will be, though, after you start doing your job."

A terrible chill gripped Harry's heart for a moment, when Didi (Death?) turned her eyes back to him.

"Wh-what would you have me do?" Harry stuttered, feeling vaguely ashamed at being intimidated by this slip of a girl.

Death carefully drank the last of her tea. When she put down her cup, the world around them had become an endless plain of gravel with a pitch black void above it. The merry little fire beside them looked to Harry to be woefully out of place in the barren, freezing wasteland they all found themselves in.

She stood, swung her cloak on her back and clasped it with the golden ankh again.

"The lingering dead, Harry." She said, picking up the other cup of tea. "I spared you from the torment of having your soul split between the Hallows because, of all their wielders, you deserved it the least. I want something in return though; you will destroy the lingering dead wherever you may find them."

"You mean, like ghosts?" Harry asked, taking a step back when the girl approached him. "I'd have thought that Death of all people would be able to handle the undead on her own."

"I swore to myself a long time ago, that I wouldn't take more from the world of the living than what I was owed. Here." She said, shoving the cup of tea his way, "Since they stay there because they have the power and the will to resist crossing over, I don't feel entirely comfortable just yanking them across.

"You could say that's more personal preference, but there are cases like your Tom Riddle; those who actually try to _cheat _me." She explained, turning to warm her hands on the oddly silent fire.

"People like him have found the means to avoid me; to stay alive at all costs, and given that their precautions protect them from me; they become a thorn in my side and a cancer in whatever world they linger in.

"They won't be safe from _you _though." She said with a smirk, "you'll be a living agent of Death; your power is your own and only marginally connected to mine through the Hallows. I couldn't have made it better if I'd planned it, really."

"You mean you didn't plan to be here blackmailing me like this?" Harry asked.

"I thought we'd established I have a soft spot for you, Harry." She smiled at him, "even your dad had heard stories of what using the Cloak would cost him, without anybody telling him it was a deathly hallow. There were many gruesome legends about it among the Peverells and the Potters later on. You, on the other hand, had no clue.

"It would've been cute if it weren't so sad."

"What do you mean it would 'cost' him?" Harry asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know.

"The Hallows were conceived as punishment Harry." Death explained, "The Peverell brothers summoned and bound me, trying to find a fool proof way to avoid dying. I wasn't about to take that lying down and I convinced them that the three hallows would each give them what they wanted."

"What about the river in the story?" Harry asked.

"Well forgive me for a little poetic license with the truth." Death huffed, "It was bad enough that the three stooges pulled their little stunt. If I'd told facts exactly the way they happened, there'd be legions of idiots trying to summon us both even now. I had to take enough grief from my brother when he helped me with the story, thank you very much."

"Both of us?"

"Well, we're a team now." She said, throwing her arm around his back with a smile in her voice. "And the Hallows make you family… sort of like a second cousin I think, so if somebody knows your Name and puts together a ritual that works… Bang! There you are, stuck with an unpleasant job." She shook her head, "it's quite annoying, really, but it comes with the territory. Anyone with enough power has to deal with it."

"This is too much…" Harry muttered, shaking her hand off. "Why didn't you just let me go? You just said that you don't like the dead to linger and here I am! I left England and Hogwarts and everything else because I was tired of things like this!"

Death's smile slid off her face. "I'm trying the best I can to be fair, Harry. I gave you something; you give me something in return. Sure, some of it is inconvenient, but nothing is perfect.

"You didn't die back in England, Harry. The wand would not betray you after you'd mastered all three Hallows, it just brought you here, to my doorstep. Albus Dumbledore told you that you weren't dead and still you willingly walked into my realm." She crossed her arms and glared. "That was _very _stupid, Harry."

"Still, I've been kicking out living mortals who stumble into my domain for eons now; you'd hardly be the first one." She said, pacing around the fire, "But you didn't come in with your body... just your soul was in here and without a body to put it in, the Hallows would tear your soul apart sooner or later."

"…and then Shruikan called me here." Harry mumbled.

"Yes. His magic brought you and your body here, the Stone stored the power he traded for his last wish and became your _eldunarí._ He basically put your body and soul back together in exchange for your killing Galbatorix. Do you begin to understand just how unfathomably lucky you were?"

Harry sipped his cold tea and said nothing.

"If you'd rather die though, even knowing what's coming if you do, I won't stop you." She said, sounding defeated. "Just step away from the light. When Shruikan's geas is complete, you'll die yourself."

"…If I do this for you, what then?" Harry asked into his cup.

"There's no 'what then'" Death said softly, "It's a job much like mine… Endless. You can check out anytime you want, but you know what happens next."

"Well here, what would you have me do here? Kill Galbatorix?"

"Shruikan placed that chain on you, not me."

"It's not fair." Harry grumbled, thinking about his earlier words to Roran.

"Be thankful that he offered something in return." Death said, "The truly powerful, those who can summon us without the trappings of an actual bargain, almost never do."

"So? What is it you want with me here?"

"Did you know that a lot of dragons escaped into their heart of hearts when Galbatorix and his Forsworn attacked?"

Harry nodded, "I've gathered something like that from Shruikan's memories… I thought they were horcruxes or something like that."

"It's something all dragons here share; the seat of all their magic, like a brain houses memories." Death explained, "The order of the Dragon Riders discovered that a dragon could throw its memories and magic into this stone in their chest. Their magic would not fade or weaken and their souls would remain shackled to the stone. Someone with training in the mind arts could communicate with the trapped dragons and any wizard holding the stone could use the dragon's magic."

"Like Murtagh has been doing, I know." Harry said, "What about them?"

"Galbatorix has many of them in his tower; Eragon has one… the rest of the Rider's inhabited _eldunarí _are somewhere in Alagaësia," Death explained, "I want you to find and destroy them all."


End file.
